


Let’s Play a Game

by K_Swiss



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Beware, Eventual Smut, F/M, NSFW, Post-Time Skip, Reader is a boss ass bitch, Spoilers, idk why i lied and said it was smutty af, kinda cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 70,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28537521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Swiss/pseuds/K_Swiss
Summary: There’s something exhilarating to him about pining over a person who was equally sexually attracted to him as he was to them. For the past three years, women flocked to him so easily. It was fun for the first year, to sleep with the most beautiful women he caught in the club, that only wanted to say they slept with a pro-athlete. It got boring when they didn’t bring any substance to it, any fight to the thrill of a chase. The third year of this continuous cycle, he ends it when a woman from Peru told him she loved him in volleyball and stated a position on a basketball team. How would someone be a point-guard in volleyball?He's at a point in his life where he has it all. Nearing the end of his contract, he meets an agent who has as much drive and ambition as him. And he personally enjoyed someone with a backbone, someone who could ground him when he was on a high of arrogance and clout. Of course, Oikawa Tooru wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t play around.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Reader
Comments: 47
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

Oikawa Tooru lives for the thrills of a conquest and when he set his eyes on something, he wouldn’t back down until he won and conquered... and everything in between. It’s a known fact that this man will fight tooth and nail for something until he achieves it. Hit it until it breaks, right? He won’t take failure as an option and it translates well into his career, bagging him a spot as Argentina’s setter and create a life full of fame and everything being a pro-athlete had to offer.

There’s something exhilarating to him about pining over a person who was equally sexually attracted to him as he was to them. For the past three years, women flocked to him so easily. It was fun for the first year, to sleep with the most beautiful women he caught in the club, that only wanted to say they slept with a pro-athlete. It got boring when they didn’t bring any substance to it, any fight to the thrill of a chase. Besides, he enjoyed someone with a backbone, someone who could ground him when he was on a high ofarrogance and clout. The third year of this continuous cycle, he ends it when a woman from Peru told him she loved him in volleyball and stated a position on a basketball team. How would someone be a point-guard in volleyball? Of course, Oikawa wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t play around.

“Oh my God, I love watching you play.” She moaned, her nails raking down his chest as he rose a brow.

“Yeah? Do you even know what position I play, pretty girl?” He smirked, running a hand through her hair as she kissed at his collarbone.

The brunette grinned, fluttering her lashes up at him as she sucks on a patch of his skin. “Point-guard, it’s so sexy.”

Oikawa throws his head back and laughs mercilessly, pushing her off of him with a quick flex of his palm as she falls back to lay on the couch. He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, stifling his laugh with a loud sigh. He ran a finger under the bra that cupped her breasts and leaned down to press a singed kiss on the exposed flesh of her chest. “Sweetheart, there’s no point-guard in volleyball.” He mumbled before pulling the strap of her bra away from her skin, letting it snap back into place. He watched her eyes widen in embarrassment and laughed again, getting off the couch to throw on his shirt and wiggle his fingers in a wave. “Bye-bye!”

How dense could they be?

It’s when his contract is finally up with Argentina and he has the chance to renew or go with a different team where he meets his match. When he thinks of sports agents he thinks of burly frat-boy men that went to some prestigious college. So, as he’s sitting in a board-room full of tall-men in business suits, his eyes widened in intrigue when the head of the firm introduces you.

“...And then, this is our last agent. She worked with Russell Wilson to negotiate his contract with the Seahawks. The woman got him a $140 million extension for four-years and a signing bonus of $65 million. She’s fucking brilliant.”

The men are cheering as they grin with wide-smiles as long as a football field. It’s a known fact that sports agents are competitive. They’ll battle it out with their co-workers to get the favor of the athlete to pick one over the other. However, Oikawa notices how they make way for you and you are so short, but there’s a look of menace within you. Besides, what woman can fight toe to toe with men and still gain their respect? A powerful one. He wants _you_.

“I pick her.” Oikawa speaks, not missing a beat, watching you with a predatory gaze as a smirk flits his lips.

Your co-workers grin as they clap your back, emptying the room shortly after. They’re depending on you. A successful extension means they get to build a firm in Argentina, which means more money and more clients.

You wait until the room is empty before smiling. “Let’s get started shall we?”

It’s a win-win situation for him and he is absolutely thrilled by it. Life has become too dull for him in his off-season. Being a celebrity isn’t as fun as it used to be and God, has he told anyone he loved a challenge? You look absolutely wonderful in your pant-suit and there’s a fire in your eyes. The same fire he has when he decided to leave his life in Japan to pursue his dreams. To win the dream. To conquer the dream. It’s the fire of being the best.

Oikawa’s grin widens and places his elbows on the table, hands cupping his cheeks as he appraises you. “ _Let’s_.”


	2. Step 1: Create Desire

_Desire._ (n.) a strong feeling of wanting to have something or wishing for something to happen.

A sports agent means networking with rich beguiling people who had way too much money that they didn’t know what to do with it. It meant dressing to the tens and clinking glasses with millionaires, laughing over sports and stupid stories that reminisced over the back in my day pretenses.Oikawa Tooru thrives in this climate, he finds it simply exhilarating to touch shoulders with people who could help him prolong his career and create a lasting name for himself.

He follows next to your five feet two inches figure as you make way through the party on the yacht. He notes how people greet you with a wide smile. It’s gorgeous, really. (Including you.) Much different than the parties he’d go to with his teammates. Everyone’s net worth combined on this large yacht is probably an estimated amount similar to Jeff Bezos’ worth. No expense was spared and he wonders how in the seven hells did you manage to get in with the most exclusive of the exclusives. There aren’t many groupies, no “regular” people within a ten mile radius and almost everyone wore designer like it was just normal. It’s when he notices the champagne glasses on a platter that a waiter holds when he sees the gold rims and when the appetizer trays don finger foods that a Michelin star chef probably made does he realize that maybe he’s in and out of his league. Insecurity chases him like a piranha to blood and he starts to feel the pressure. Wouldn’t it be much easier to just fire you and negotiate on his own terms with the team? Maybe. 

  
His gaze flits to a blonde American woman that walks up to you with a confident aura that surrounds you. “Oh my goodness, is that really you?” She gushes and envelops you in a hug.

“Jeanie Greene. Wow! What are you doing in Argentina?” You laugh, keeping your drink steady as you hug her with your free arm.

The owner of the LA Lakers. Tooru blinks before he composes himself and smiles easily at her.

“Finding another team to own.” She smirks and moves to stand next to you, taking a long sip of her vodka and tonic. “The sports world is filled with too much men, we need to break the cycle.”

You return her smirk as the both of you scan the party, exchanging pleasantries in the lapses of silence. “This is my client, Oikawa Tooru.”

Jeanie faces him, examining him from top to bottom, before she extends a hand and gives him a firm handshake. “A pleasure to meet you. You got the best of the best. She’ll take care of you.” Of course you will.

He grins. “I’ve only heard of her expertise on football and basketball contracts.” He notices your smile twitch and your fingers tighten on the stem of your drink.

Gotta take you down a notch. Wounding your pride seems to be the easiest way especially if your client doesn’t truly believe in your capabilities.

There’s white-noise of chatter that eases the tension of your client just dogging you. But, you merely shrug it off.

The exclusive boys-club of sport agents was exclusive for a reason. Especially when you look at the yacht and note that it’s predominantly men with very few women. And as much as you’d like to say you didn’t mind being in uncomfortable situations, everyone had their breaking points. However, when you join the leagues of agency, the best thing you can do is a fake a smile until you make it. And then shove your success in their face like smashing a cake.

The owner of the Lakers smirks. “Whatever the client wants, she’ll get. Trust me.” She gives you a knowing look and gives you another hug before she waves and glides off back into the crowd.

Tooru scratches the back of his neck and shuts his eyes with an outstretched smile. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s nice that your reputation precedes you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to prevent a snappy response and nod slowly, shaking off the feeling of irritation. Little to your knowledge, he wanted a reaction and he almost got it.

“Look, do you know who that is?” You pointed towards a lanky black-haired man wearing a name-brand suit standing around with a bunch of taller athletes.

He cranes his necks, squinting slightly. “He looks familiar.”

“Jameson Dean, head coach of the women’s national volleyball team in the States. He’s good friends with Renan Dal Zotto, head coach of Brazil. If we can pique interest and get Brazil’s team to want you, we might be able to sway more money in your extension.” You sip your drink, glancing at him to gauge his own interest in the matter.

And he is everything, including interested. “Brazil’s number one in the FIVB. Let’s do it.”

Guess you do know a little bit about volleyball. Maybe it’s the nagging thought in the back of his mind of how easy you make shaking hands with people who cost more than his flat in San Juan look so easy. Or the fact that you’re simply in your element as you brush shoulders with people he’s only dreamed of meeting. Either way, it creates the lingering feeling of insecurity in his mind to come to a head. And as much as he keeps up this facade of a smiling and happy athlete, he feels like a toy being shown off at an auction to the best bidder. But, this is the life he wanted right? Play the game he loves while business savvy people like yourself capitalize on his success.

He follows you as you meander through the crowd, his attention drops to you momentarily to watch the sway of your hips in the sundress you wore. As if his previous thoughts just fizzled out, his thoughts turned into something else. It’s the same feeling and thoughts when he first set his eyes on you. He could make out the imprint of your ass and how it jiggled with each step and swiped his lips with tip of his tongue before he looked back up. He wouldn’t mind being your play thing if he could just get a peek of what’s underneath.   
  


“Hello, hello.” You greet with a wide smile giving a hug to the head coach. “This is Oikawa Tooru, with Argentina.” You gesture to Tooru next to you, examining how Jameson’s eyes widen in surprise. 

Tooru shakes his hand, quickly engaging in conversation about his previous game with the coach.

“Great things I’ve heard about you! Great things!” Jameson barks out before he focuses his attention on you. Almost as if the head coach’s thoughts flipped a switch, the whole demeanor of the conversation changed.   
  


“You are gorgeous.” His eyes are glazed and hazy, alcohol coming off his breath with each word he utters out and your smile drops.

“That’s inappropriate.” You say through grit teeth. Interesting. You don’t sway to compliments to gain favor.

“Oh, come on. This is a boy’s club and you’re a female. Stop being a feminist.” His voice is low as he leans towards you. “I know what you’re doing. If you want me to help you with your client, we can make some arrangements.”

Tooru feels the conversation shift and glances at you with a questioning look. He notices how you take a subtle step back and prepares to intervene. “Mr. Dean, it’s amazing how—”

“I wouldn’t step foot in your bedroom with a ten foot pole. Next time you insinuate something, I’ll out you to the press about how you brought a couple of whores back to your home while your wife was vacationing in Bali.” You don’t wait for a response and turn around, leaving Tooru to follow behind you, who waves casually to the mouth-gaped open head coach.

“I hate these things.” You finally state, glancing at him with an amused smile as you take a long sip of your drink. “Sorry, I keep having you following me around. It must be overwhelming to be in a situation like this.”

He laughs when the yacht docks at the launch and everyone starts to get off, falling in line beside you. “You held yourself well.”

You shrug. “It’s a closed-off society almost, everyone here has secrets. Gotta use it to your advantage.”

“Do you have secrets?”

You raise a brow up at him. “We all do. Come on, I got a feeling Brazil’s head coach will be giving us a call in a little bit.”

And he does call, overly thrilled to meet Tooru for dinner at some swanky restaurant. San Juan’s setter is known predominantly as a well-executed strategist and the dinner goes through without a hitch. Conversations of volleyball, his success in Japan during his school-years, and everything in between. Along with bottomless drinks and expensive food, he’s enthralled by the lifestyle. Almost swooning that the #1 in the FIVB is complimenting him and his skills. Take that Tobio-Chan.

Of course, while the coach and him converse, he can’t help but take note of you in another dress, one that’s more form-fitting than the one on the yacht and he’s awed in how you dress yourself in gold jewelry that he’s sure you bought for yourself. You grasp the stem of the wine delicately in your hold as you take a sip, interjecting yourself from time to time to sway the conversation more into his favor. Laughing here and there and indulging the coach in stories from your days as well.

Graduate of Cambridge. A secret-society girl, he figured. He’s surprised to hear your family is based out of Japan as well since you don’t look the closest lick of Japanese. Then, it makes sense when your father embarked out there as a branch of some law-firm headquartered in the states. He’s infatuated, swooning even more and a younger-him would absolutely flirt with you right in front of the coach just to get a reaction. Instead, he’ll leave it to lingering gazes and whenever you catch his eye, he’ll smile a bit more wider. How many clients have flirted with you? He’s curious. Did you sleep with any? If not, he wanted to be the first. He will be.

“Well, it has been a pleasure talking with you Tooru. I’ll reach out to you and we can talk more.” The coach gives you a knowing-look. One that means he wants him, but, he’s going to play hardball because they all do.

When he takes his leave, you throw your napkin on the table and lean back with a satisfied smirk. “You are really good with people, he’s in love with you.”

Tooru grins. “I have that effect on people. You didn’t read my file?”

You snort and finish your glass of wine. “I did, your past scandals are going to be an issue.”

“But, you said they loved me!”

“Nobody wants to take risk on someone who’s risky in public. Come on, you slept with another athlete’s wife?” You drawl, turning your head slightly to face him.

“I didn’t know, honestly.” He objects and places a hand on top of yours, watching as you stiffen. _There it is._ You are attracted to him. He smiles comfortingly despite you snatching your hand away from him. “Besides, whatever I want I get. That’s what you and Ms. Jeanie said, right?” His smile had suddenly turned devious as his hazel-hues darkened.

You raise a brow, shifting slightly in your seat. “Agent to client purposes only.”

“Oh? I never said anything about personal endeavors.” Oikawa smirks when your eyes widened. _Got you_. “I’m glad you find me equally as attractive that your mind would go in the gutter. Such a _bad_ girl.” He drawls back. He leans closer to you as you inch away, the dusty pink tinge in your cheeks betraying your emotions all too easily.

“Of course, I find you breathtakingly gorgeous. It’s going to be hard to work with you when all I can think about is bending you over in the boardroom. Do you know how scandalous it would be for a client to fuck their agent?” He mutters, irises flitting from your lips and then to your own eyes until he backs away and smiles innocently.

You swallow the lump in your throat and hastily get up. “We’re done here. I’ll call you when I come up with numbers.”

“Oh, please do. I can’t wait.” He grins, watching you leave the restaurant without so much as a look back at him.

He starts with the simple strategy, light grazes. A brush of his hand on the spine of your back as he leans over you to watch you work through the legal contract of his. His lips inches away from your neck as he exhales a slow breath on the contact of your skin. A sly smile graces him when he feels your breath hitch and pause over your keyboard before he backs away and straightens his posture, pretending as if nothing happened.

The next time he sees you, you’re running numbers to him of his six-year contract in the boardroom of the firm. The same place he said he’d want to fuck you in and he takes note of you wearing a dress that he could easily slide up without so much as even ripping your clothes off. He’s sitting on one of the chairs with his arms extended over the back of the other two next to him as he watches you point at the projected screen on the whiteboard. A dry-erase marker circling over numbers and terms that you made easily understandable to him. It’s late at night and no one is in the office except for you two. So, he easily gets up, the gears in his mind turning into motion.

“I left my glasses at home.” He laughs and stands closer to look at the numbers, pretending to squint. “Hm, I still can’t see.” He whines before he takes a step closer to you until both of your shoulders are touching. He observes you add up numbers on the board and explain the different terms for each contract you present. He grasps your hand—the one holding the dry-erase marker— before he guides it to the number that he likes. The highest one and circles it, turning his head slightly as he continues to look at the numbers to whisper in your ear. “I want it _all_.”

He feels your body grow frigid and smirks before he pulls away, satisfied, before he plucks his jacket from the back of his chair and slips it on. “Thank you!” He cheerfully states and he saunters out of the office to leave you there. All hot and bothered.

Oikawa Tooru is a patient man. He has told himself over and over again that all things even primarily worth it take time and grit. Seems like you’re already falling for it anyways.


	3. Step 2: Be Your Friend

friend. (n.) a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, _typically_ exclusive of sexual or family relations.

Some people don’t understand the appeal to sports. It’s more than just something to watch. It’s a sense of belonging, a shared love of a team or an appreciation of the strategy and tactics behind it. Others enjoy the thrill of rivalries. Competition, joy, heartbreak, love. It’s the drive. The fire within an athlete’s eyes when they play the sport they love. The time and dedication put into training. The heart and grit and tears that come with a win or loss. It’s everything. And as a sports agent, you cultivate it. You give these athletes who spent their whole lives pioneering, _everything_.

Time and effort is put into ensuring your client gets everything he or she wants. Some athletes can be difficult. Requiring specific clauses to protect themselves and their acquisitions. Others are primarily simple, especially the younger doe-eyed ones who want nothing more than to go pro and stay pro. The most difficult thing is negotiating, fighting tooth and nail for whatever the client wants. Some people are okay with a $10 million contract, others want a $150 million one. The higher the number, the tougher the win.

It takes more than one person to make a player’s dream come true. Usually a three person team and maybe more, there’s someone who handles the finances, another who handles the contracts, and then one who handles the in-between. More time is taken in the building up a brand, hyping up an athlete, and making them a public figure. Think of notable people like Kobe Bryant, Cristiano Ronaldo, Peyton Manning. It’s all about the brand.

From endorsements to interviews, Oikawa Tooru is a born natural in front of the camera and the public eats it like candy. He thrives in the social scene, time and time again. From high school interviews to pro-league press conferences, he easily sways the public eye to watch him. To love him. To want him.

“What does it mean to you to play for CA San Juan?” “What’s your dynamic with your team?” “Where do you plan on taking your career next?”

He answers with ease, a confident smile that never wavers. Not even during the tougher questions about his rivalry with other players in his past and present.

“He’s a fucking natural.” Joe mumbles next to you. The two of you are leaning against a wall, watching the interview take place in the home of the interviewer. Floor to ceiling windows that overlook the Pacific Ocean with a sun so bright that it gives your client a glow like he’s the Pope or something. And as he responds to each question with strategy and tactics that you both carefully planned, the ball spins in the favor to him.

“There was an incident where you almost struck your teammate in the past. Do you have any comments on that?”

Tooru’s attention flashes over to you. _How did they know that?_ There’s uncertainty in his eyes on how to respond and you straighten your posture. Your hand goes to your heart and you point at it. It takes him a couple seconds to register what you’re trying to insinuate before he looks back at the interviewer. “When you put everything into something you love, you feel strongly about certain situations. I made mistakes but I don’t make the same mistake twice.”

You exhale a breath you’ve been holding at his response when the interviewer smiles and lean back against the wall again, clapping Joe’s shoulder.

“Like I said, a natural.” He repeats again with a wide smirk before he steps into the hallway to take a call.

When the interview wraps up, Tooru pulls himself off of the couch and rolls his shoulders while looking at you with an all-knowing grin. “How did I do?”

He already knows. He just wants affirmation. You give a thumbs up. “Killed it. Come on, you deserve a drink.”

—

“What made you be a sports agent?” The saying curiosity killed the cat is ever prevalent in Tooru’s mind, but, he was always known as a person who takes risk. Someone who strategizes from point A to point B and to spend all this time with someone he barely knows who knows everything about him is bizarre. He’s nursing an IPA while he observes you texting away on your phone and scrolling through emails as you go back and forth between a sip of your drink and then glancing at him and then back to your phone again.

You set your phone down on the counter after a few moments and take a second to compile your thoughts and he’s not sure if you’re about to bust into tears or what because it’s a simple question and he just wants to get to know the person he’s pining over.

“I played basketball and tore my ACL. Career was over after that. I made a lot of connections playing at Cambridge so it just happened to work out when I graduated.”

“You’re so short, though!” He spoke without thinking and then masks his own surprise with an easy-going smile as if he meant to say it.

Your brow twitches. “So is Hinata Shoyou but it looks like his school still managed to beat you your last year in high school.”

Tooru’s mouth drops. Curiosity killed him instead. Pride included.“Ouch. You mean, evil woman.”

You lift your drink to your lips. “Should’ve went to Shiratoriwaza, right Tooru?”

Overkill. Overkill. Overkill! He flails his arms and throws his head back. “I don’t want to hear that. Stop talking!”

As your laughter fades and you take in the moment, you feel a soft billowing breeze of the air conditioner that floats through the space of your apartment. There’s a hue from the lighting outside that highlights his side-profile, the sharpness of his nose and his wide and doe-eyed hues that traveled and took in everything from the infrastructures of the buildings in Buenos Aires to the warm under lightings of street lamps that created shadows on the streets below you.

“I gave up everything when I left Japan, sometimes I feel alone out here.” He pauses to take a sip of his drink once more. “So I did everything a young person does when they get a touch of a lifestyle they’ve never had before. I mean my teammates are like family here, but I just never really had someone I could tell my whole life to. I gave volleyball my everything, you know? But now that I have what I want, I don’t know anymore.”

His eyes are downcast as he speaks. His grip tightens on the bottle but he still takes another drink. “I worked so hard for this, I can’t be with someone that doesn’t work just as hard. You know?” He smiles softly yet there’s pain that radiates through him.

His heart is on his sleeve for you, and he’s not sure if you’ll take it or if you’ll crush it. Because as much as people wanted to label him as a man who has fun. A typical bachelor, it was never the life he really wanted. It was just that nobody wanted a person who came second. But, you understand it. You understood the world he was thrown into when he accepted the position. And he would never ask for help, because of his pride. But, he was hoping that maybe... just maybe you would be his ambassador to this world. A world full of fine dining and power plays to knock the weakest people down to a normal, blue-collared life. A world that’ll give you a taste of what it’s like to be on top, only to shove you down the rabbit hole with nothing more than a mocking news article that’ll broadcast to the world that you are nothing.

You watch him from the corner of your eye. “You have friends in high places now. You’ll do great things.”

There’s a fleeting vision of shock that encompasses him before being replaced with vulnerability and maybe even hope. “How do you do it?”

“I’m sorry?”

Tooru rolls his eyes. “How do you make it sound so easy? What’s your trick?”

“I capitalize on the success of men and women who dedicate their lives to the game. I know a thing or two about saying things to placate people.”

“And are you placating me?” He suddenly asks.

You notice how much younger he looks when he’s vulnerable and buzzed from the few drinks he’s had. “I tell my friends that this is a different world. When you’re satisfied, you can get kicked off of a pedestal so quick. Never be satisfied. Keep going. You’re blazing a path for the people who follow after you.” You hesitate but place a hand on his arm nonetheless.

“I won’t let you fail. Your success is personal to me. I’ve got you.”

—

Off-season meant time to go back home for the holidays, which really intervened with his plans but he wanted to see his family, specifically Takeru, and catch up with friends he hasn’t seen in years.

Relationships are hard for him to maintain. Especially now that he’s much older and able to understand what a balance between his life means. His regrets are engrained in him and as much as he didn’t want to see her, she ended up right in his hotel room with eyes that he used to love so much. His ex-girlfriend.

“Do you miss me, Tooru?” She asks, a hand on his knee as her body leans towards him. There’s sincerity in her eyes and longing. Hope, even. His mind isn’t on you at the moment. It’s on her. Because he remembers it all. Memories that spike him like stepping into an ice bath. Feelings that uproot themselves like the first day of spring.

And he stares at her with honesty because she knew who he was before he became Oikawa Tooru of Argentina. Because she held him while he sobbed from the loss against Karasuno. Because she watched him board that plane with no more than a kiss on her forehead and empty promises he couldn’t keep. He doesn’t respond.

She smiles sadly, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her head finds a familiar space, where she rests it on his chest to listen to his heartbeat and he feels like he’s at home. Like he’s full again. But then; the insecurity breaches into his state of calm as he listens to the rain patter against the window. The fear of disappointment of breaking her trust again and being what he always was. “I think it’s time you came home, right?”

“I’m extending my contract.” He admits, his gaze distant as he stares off out the window. He feels her stiffen and her arms retract from his neck before he looks down at her.

“We can make it work. I mean, I can’t move out there with you.. but we can make it work? Right?” She speaks with uncertainty. Pain is in his eyes because all she wants is him. Her high-school lover. The man he used to be.

He wants to believe it. Wants to hold onto her like a blanket to shield him from the world he doesn’t quite fit into. Yes, he’s charismatic. But, charisma only gets someone so far. And it’s much easier to fall into routine than it is to break the chains of a society built off wealth. It’s much easier to go with someone who’s familiar than indulge in the life of a rich-people club full of strangers and moguls. And as much as he thought about you, thought about sleeping with you. Fucking you just to fuck you. He remembers the feeling of not fitting in at the yacht party. He remembers how vicious the press were when they dug into his personal life. The way you read his life to him in the boardroom from each scandal he succumbed to and every fault of his that was broadcasted the public eye and he feels the same pain he felt from before. Not being good enough.

But, then he remembers how you give him a look of assurance. A look that tells him he’s going to do big things. The way you speak of him and his accomplishments with excitement as he sits in front of people with customized Rolex watches and diamond jewelry that he never thought he’d be able to look at past a glass case. The past few months of traveling to different venues, booking him for back to back interviews, putting him in endorsement deals, he realized that you were setting him up for a dream. His dream. To turn it all into reality. _I got you._

“I don’t want to.” Reality hits him like punching a brick wall. He left behind a world of comfortability to pursue his dreams. To take risks. His phone vibrates and he swipes up on a message from you.

_Call me. We need to talk._

He pushes her away gently to respond to the text message before his phone is pulled away from his fingertips.

“Are you serious? Can whoever you’re talking to wait?” He hears her sigh. Her eyes widen at the text message she reads. “Who the fuck is y/n?!”

Seems like irritation is as contagious as the flu. He grabs the phone back and abruptly gets up, taking a step away from her. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he slips his phone back into his pocket. “She’s my sports agent, Haru.”

“Yeah fucking right.” Haru seethes. Insecurity is just as contagious and he can’t fault her for it. He lives across the ocean. They live two different worlds, one that she’s not built for and one that he has no intentions of going back to.

Tooru rolls his eyes. “What, do you want me to call her in front of you?”

“Fuck you, Tooru. Can it wait?” She’s like a switch. Angry then sad and then desperate. “Don’t you still love me?” Her voice cracks as tears start to well in her eyes. Those eyes that he found solace in, comfort even. Eyes that weren’t enough for him to stay.

“I’m sorry.” He is sorry. He’s sorry that a moment of weakness caused her confusion. That he gave her false hope. He’s sorry that his lapse in confidence made him feel unworthy of something he fought so hard for.

“I hope it’s worth it.” He hears before she leaves the room. It will be. He opts on FaceTiming you and takes a seat, angling the phone against a prop to hold it upright while he reaches for the room-service food he ordered for two. There’s a chime and he looks back at the phone. “Buenas noches, bonita.” He grins at your smile.

You’re in your office, presumably on your iPad or your laptop because you lift your phone up and play a voice-mail that makes his heart skip a beat.

“It’s afternoon here. Can you catch the next flight back?” You’re tossing a mini-toy volleyball between both of your hands as you watch him through the screen with a satisfied smile. The one you have when you get to shove your success down your co-worker’s throat because you got the deal. The sun reflects off of you that creates a blinding light, like you’re an angel or something and he’s convinced you are. _I got you._

“On my way right now.” His words contradicts his actions because he’s still sitting, eyes as wide as dinner plates with the gummiest grin on his face.

You’re laughing joyously and he’s zeroed out on you. The sound from the voice-mail replaying on his mind over and over again. _Done deal. Finalize the contract, we need him in the Olympics._

“Are you coming?” You lean back in your chair squeezing the toy volleyball with your fist. It’s those stress-relief balls he’s seen scattered around in the firm and he’s almost swooning you chose a toy volleyball instead of some baseball or basketball one.

“Victory looks good on you,” he drawls, his voice dropping an octave before breaking out in laughter. “Just wait until I get there.”


	4. Step 3: Give A Taste

Strategy and precision is how people win wars. It’s how teams win championships. And it’s how Oikawa Tooru has you underneath him writhing with savory juices that are gushing out of you and coating your inner thighs as his hips rut against yours. There’s something about winning that makes sex so much more satisfying. Something about the endorphins added onto desire and lust that creates a euphoric atmosphere.

He remembers catching the red-eye to Argentina and bursting into your office as soon as he landed. Uncaring if he was only in sweats and a hoodie because he made sure the very first thing he did was sign on those dotted lines, crossing his t’s, dotting his i’s and then grabbing you by the throat so he could kiss you and so you wouldn’t run away from him.

He landed around midnight and called you as soon as he did, catching a cab to the firm and taking an elevator up to the space your firm was renting out. The lights were still on and janitors were cleaning around the office when he made a bee-line straight to yours.

He closes the door behind him, accidentally slamming it with a little more force than he anticipated and gives you an apologetic smile. “I’m excited.”

His contract is stacked neatly right next to where you were leaned against the desk. You gesture to it. “Sign away, sir.”

He may be overly-excited and antsy but the man is no idiot, he reads through the document, letting you explain certain clauses and gray areas before he scrawls his signature and as soon as he signs the last page, he stands from his bent position and looks at you with dark eyes. There’s a moment for you to back away but, you’re too busy lost in his hues that are swarmed full of emotions. Joy. Triumph. Relief.

He drops the pen on your desk and presses his cold palm against your arm, sliding it up until his fingers trace your jaw, to test the waters. To see if you’re still game. And when you don’t pull away, he cups your chin before he lowers his head to kiss you. He doesn’t give you time to react because he presses a knee between your legs and wraps his free arm around your waist. He pulls away and presses a kiss against your jaw, his tongue trailing down to your neck and the hand that was once there is sliding underneath your dress, squeezing at your thighs and toying at the hem of your underwear.

“How are you already wet?” He teases, eyes flitting over to look up at you as he lowers himself. Hiking your dress up to bunch at your hips, he licks his lips when you spread your legs wider for him. “I think you deserve a prize for all your hard work.”

While he pulls your underwear down, a finger traces against the slit of your cunt as he coos over how wet you are. You feel a surge of pleasure travel through your veins and into the pits of your stomach when his mouth replaces the finger, a hand grabbing a fistful of his hair as his tongue laps and licks at you. “There’s people still here!” You hiss, your head falling back with a moan when he sticks his tongue into your cunt.

“Better be quiet, then~” Tooru’s tongue travels up to the swell of your clit and grins when your body twitches against him. He wraps a tongue around the bud and looks up at you, sucking and spitting on it as a finger slides into your cunt and he’s pumping at a slow pace. He’s looking at you the same way he had when he first laid eyes on you, and with each thrust of his finger, he nips at your clit before soothing the graze with a long, flat lick from his tongue. When he pulls away, there’s a trail of saliva that connects his tongue to your cunt and smiles innocently. “You’re doing so good. Keep it up.”

A flush finds your cheeks and your eyes dart from him and back to the door because you hear the swiveling of wheels from the janitor outside and a knock on the door.

He raises a brow, both of his hands rubbing at the inside of your thighs as he presses his lips against your clit once more, slowly swirling his tongue around it to exude another mewl from you. He pulls away quickly when you sit up straight and tilts his head, tongue protruding out his lips, just waiting and wondering what you’re going to do.

“Miss, are you still in there?”

“Yes-!” You gasp, body arching when he harshly sucks on the bud of your clit again, his index and middle finger curling against the walls of your cunt.

Tooru laughs softly against you, slurping and sucking your clit until your thighs clench against his face and you close your eyes, mouth parted because you’re trying so hard not to moan and have to result to labored breathings to save you.

“Are you almost done-?”

“Not even close.” He whispers, pulling away from you to stand and pull his sweats down. He slides a hand under your ass to inch you closer to the edge of the desk and spits onto his cock before he runs a hand over it and positions it at the opening of your cunt. “Be quiet.” He directs in a low voice that makes your spine tingle and then he slides into you, agonizingly slow. His attention is on the way your pussy sucks his cock in like it’s meant to be there. He pulls it out just as slow before he watches it disappear back into your cunt, a pleased noise coming from the back of his throat.

Your arms grip his arms, legs wrapping around his waist as your face finds his neck and you let out a sob. Eyes clenching shut and cunt tightening around his cock with each deliberately elongated thrust of his hips.

His hand yanks at the back of your hair, lips on your neck as he nips at it with a groan before it transfixes into a light chuckle. “You’re so naughty, getting fucked with a janitor on the other side of the door.”

“Miss?”

If this man won’t be the death of you then the janitor selling the news of you fucking your client would be and fuck— “You feel so good.” You moan into his ear.

The desk is scraping against the floor with each thrust of his hips and the sound of his balls slapping your skin and the squelching of him fucking your wet cunt is a telltale of how dirty this whole situation is. Because he’s whispering all these things against your neck that has you clenching and convulsing around his cock and you’re moaning low into his ear, grinding into him and fucking him back. High off him fucking you off his own victory lap.

And at this point, you don’t care because his thumb is rubbing circles into your clit and he’s pulled away from you to hold you at your thighs as he watches his cock slide in and out of you. A sheen of translucent wetness is coating his cock every time he pulls his cock out to the tip before he slams back into you, involuntarily shaking the desk and the trinkets that are on it. “Dirty girl, you can’t even be quiet.” He croons, tongue swiping the bottom of his lip with a devilish smirk.

You fall back onto the desk, elbows and forearm the only thing holding you up as your head lolls back. There’s a tingling in your nerves that grow stronger and stronger as he fucks you, his cock is buried in your cunt when he leans toward you, meeting you halfway for a sloppy and wet kiss. You can taste yourself off of his tongue that licks and flicks and swirls around your own tongue. Mouths moving in tandem as his hips slap against yours, cock diving into your cunt brushing against your cervix with each thrust and you moan into his lips. His thumb is still rubbing against your clit, teeth grazing your bottom lip as he reluctantly pulls away from your mouth to press a searing kiss against your jaw. Tongue jutting out to suck and nip right where your neck connects. “Are you going to cum for me?”

You nod your head, moaning as your hips lift your lower body up the desk to meet you halfway and to reach a different angle that has you grasping and clawing at the edge of your desk. Your eyes flutter open, “Oh-oh. Fuck. I’m gonna-“ You gasp out, cunt twitching and your senses vision out. You’re about to fall back onto the desk when he wraps a sturdy arm around your waist, holding you upright as his cock brushes against your cervix with every snap of his hips. He’s concentrating and you can tell from how he gnaws at the bottom of his lip, eyes sharp despite your cunt clenching against his cock as if it’s sucking him in deeper into a cavern of slickness that makes him let out a groan.

His gaze is back on you and his lips curl into a smirk. “You thought I was going to let you fall, princess?”

You wrap your arms around his neck and swivel your hips, whimpering. You can tell he’s close from how he falls out of rhythm, his thrusts are more frantic, sporadic even. His cock is slamming against the nub of your cervix and your moans are reaching a higher octave from him sliding in and out of your swollen lips at an angle.

His hand that’s splayed on your lower back presses further into you, forcing you closer to him until your breasts are squeezed against his chest while his other hand moves to your thigh keeping you still. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet and tight.” He hisses through gritted teeth, the hand on your thigh is digging into your skin and you’re writhing from how his cock is throbbing in you, the head of his cock rubbing your walls in the same motions. In and out. In and out.

Another knock against the door and as if Tooru flipped a switch, he pulls out of you. You’re not sure if you should applaud him for his willpower to pull out before cumming or scream at him for wrecking you. He gives you a teasing smile, pecking your lips before he pulls his sweats back up. He slides a hand under your ass to lift you off of the desk so he can pull your dress back down to cover your lower body and grabs the scattered pieces of his contract, laughing. Now, you’re not sure if he’s laughing at you or at the situation.

You’re livid at how calculative he is. How he can act like he wasn’t just railing you against your desk and how he smiles innocently at the janitor who opens the door suspiciously. Instinct wants you to kick the janitor out and pull the setter back to you to finish your little rendezvous, but watching him as he kindly greets the custodian is only irritating you more. The way he easily sparks up a conversation, how they’re both talking about sports and how he’ll glance back at you with a smoldering look before it flashes back into an easy-going smile towards the janitor. 

“I’m still in here.” You deadpan, cutting off their conversation with a cool tone. 

“And I need to go home!” The janitor snaps, grumbling about how rude you were as he starts sweeping your floors. _Uh, sir._ You already have a series of curse words ready to fly at him and about how rude _he_ was for interrupting a mind-blowing fuck. 

Tooru hums, thumbing through his contract as he starts to walk towards the door and stops. “We have a problem.”

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “What is it?”

He shows you the papers that are drenched from your cum with a smirk. Your eyes widen. _No._

“Looks like I’ll be back to fill them out again. See you tomorrow~”


	5. Step 4: Take a Step Back

You sit behind your desk, tossing another stress ball back and forth between your palms as you watch a basketball game on your computer, analyzing and reading plays. Looking at how the rookies play and even reminiscing a bit. The office is mostly empty except for a few that came in to tie up loose ends for other deals. Joe peeked into your office once to talk about the upcoming Olympics and who out of all your clients were going to participate because all of his were. It’s ways away, but you still decided to bite the bait and brag back, just to watch his smirk crumble into envy and shock.

It’s a sunny day. Hot and humid, the air conditioner is on the highest setting because the rays from the sun are burning your back. Hot and bothered is actually what you really are and you snort to yourself, squeezing the stress ball with your hand. You have never indulged a client, never really even gave thought into it. Sure, you worked with great athletes, handsome and single ones, but never crossed that threshold of inappropriate behavior. But, this man...

You think back to the night prior and press your thighs together, absentmindedly pulling the dress of yours down further beneath you. There’s something about him that makes it seem worth it to risk it all.

“Good morning!” Tooru slips through your doors with ease, using his hip to close the door and hands you a cup of coffee and a pastry from a cafe he stopped at down the road.

You take the drink, suppressing a reaction when his fingers brush against yours. “Good morning, Let’s do this again.”

You slide the contract towards him and he hums, grabbing a pen from your pot before he signs away.

“You wanna do _it_ again?” He teases, eyes flicking up at you with a slight tilt of his head.

You flare your nostrils and huff, squeezing your stress ball until your knuckles turn white before you find yourself forcing to watch the game on your monitor. His head ducks to read through the contract and you deflate your shoulders, stress and desire washing away as both of you find a comfortable silence. The only sounds were from the commentators on the video and the scribbles and scratches from the pen on the paper. For just that moment, it felt right. Almost as if the comfort of another presence—his presence—was like a door opening for something else. Something that didn’t just house your career but, something else and as if he could feel it too, he glances in your direction.

A knock forces your attention to the door when your assistant peeks her head through the door.“Morning, have you checked your messages recently?”

You lift your phone from the table, turning it around to look at your screen before you place it face down again. “Just did.”

“Want me to handle it?” She offers.

You pause for a moment, appraising her. She was a capable, aspiring agent. Played volleyball all throughout college in the States, suffered a torn ACL and decided to pursue something else. She was more than capable of handling things on her own, but your fault was always wanting to be in control. “No, I’ve got it.”

Her face drops before she closes the door.

Tooru sets the pen back into the pot with a loud clang. “All done.”

You nod and continue to squeeze at the ball in your palm, assessing him as you did with your assistant. The one you use when trying to figure out the next several moves for a pro-athlete and he stares back at you with the smile that makes it so easy to knock you off your game. “Do you know exactly what my job is?”

Of course he does, he’s an athlete. That was the dumbest thing you could’ve asked him.

He tilts his head and laughs. “Yes?”

“I look for new talent, so I’m going to view some games.” You start and pause. How do you word it? “I usually specialize in basketball, but since I signed you..”

“You need me to come with you? I can teach you volleyball, darling. I’m the best.” He finishes with a shrug.

You’re impressed at how he already knew where you were going with the conversation. For the amount of time you’ve known him, it was so easy for him to take control of a situation and to lead the way. “I didn’t say—“

“You didn’t need to.” He casually states and a plucks apart a piece of the milk bread he had bought from an oriental store.

“It’d be a good idea to show your face. You know, pro-athlete showing interest in the community. It’ll be good for your brand.”

“Hm? Sure. That’s what it is.” Oikawa chews on the piece of bread, deliberately careful. “Where are we going?”

Ignoring his comment, you scroll through a spreadsheet of rosters. “Actually, you might be familiar. There’s a specific person I’m looking at.. Hinata Natsu. The States are launching a women’s pro league and I want to get in on that.” You don’t notice his jaw clench from the surname.

“She attends Niiyama High.”

You blink. “Yeah. She does.”

He forces a smile and sighs dramatically. He notices your attention falls on him again and averts the conversation to something else. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

He chuckles and leans forward, forearms on the table and inches away from your face. “Do you want to do it again?”

You push yourself away with more force than you expected as your chair rolls back quickly and hits at the back of the wall. Squeaking from the impact, you throw your stress ball at him. “Inappropriate!”

“Mm~ I think we crossed that line already.” He catches the ball with ease and tosses it back at you.

A grin betrays your professionalism.

—

Tooru would never believe he’d step back into the gym where his team lost to the underdogs, Karasuno. He’s feeling a myriad of emotions, nostalgia included and opts on just following beside of you as he did at the yacht party.It’s no longer his playing field, it’s yours.   
  


Agents from across the countries all have the same mindset of scavenging for prospects to form and sign individuals to profit off the creation of a pro-league in the States. It was an investment that would pay off since the sport became more renowned. And people like you wanted to get in front of the line, become a pioneer and create a trail-blazing path.

Insecurity spikes at him again when he sees familiar faces and steeling his resolve, he squares his shoulders. He’s San Juan’s setter. Potentially Argentina’s if things go right and he signed a multi-million dollar extension. Left behind his normal life to live a life he fought so hard for. Yet, as he notices other agents scattered around, looking at volleyball players that are just as good as he was when he was younger—maybe even better—he can’t help but feel fear. Fear that someone will follow his footsteps and replace him as easily as he replaced his life in Japan.

Your name was called out and you turned your head.

“Look at you, trying to get ahead of the game.” A man smirks. He’s wearing a pull-over and slim-fit chinos with a Rolex on his wrist that looked almost the same as yours. Do all agents have to flex like they’re big money or something? Apparently so.

“Aaron Shore. Here to poach another client of mine?”

Aaron glances at your client momentarily before looking back at you. “I heard Kageyama Tobio was better.” His voice is too calm, too even. It’s a subliminal power play, like two people playing chess and the athletes are the pieces.

“He’s spoken for already. You always loved getting second hands don’t you?” You respond, equally composed despite the tension arising.

Tooru suppresses a smirk from your comment and digs his hands into his pockets. Truly, banters between agents could be so interesting. From the time he’s spent with you amongst other agents when attending games with him or conversations at a party that escalate into something that conjured up the words: polite and arguments together, he would never get tired of it.

Aaron laughs loudly. “My eyes aren’t on someone who’s already signed, lovie. I’m looking at Hinata Natsu.”

Despite a surge of anger creeping up, you compose your smile. “What happened to that rookie you represented again?” You watch his smile drop and imitate it. “Stay in your fucking lane.”

After the “polite argument” or whatever Tooru would call it, the both of you walk towards the courts and you take a seat, searching for the tangerine-haired teenager.

He sits next to you, cleaning his glasses with a cloth. He can feel eyes on him, some of the players looking up to where he was sitting. He opts on prolonging the time to wipe the lenses so he wouldn’t have to look up.

“They’re going to announce you being here, just play it cool. Remember, you paved the way.”

His lip twitches upwards from your compliment. _Play it cool_. He can do that. Years of reserving emotions and honing his skills, there was no reason to be antsy. 

So why is he antsy? Call it intuition, but he felt like something was going to go irrevocably wrong. He just wasn’t sure what it was, yet. Licking his bottom lip, an action he’s grown to do more commonly when he feels something amiss, he leans back into his seat.   
  


“High school games aren’t as intense as pro-games. They cut the sets short to three. You might not be able to get a good gist of the plays from that alone but, it’s really similar to other sports as far as strategy and teamwork.”

You sneak a look at him, noticing how he’s watching them warm-up and you can already tell the gears are turning in his head. He’s already had a few guesses of how the game would go and if Natsu’s older brother was any indication, it’d be like a trip down memory lane for him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be your private commentator.” Tooru glances at you from his peripheral with a quick smile.

You smile back. “Ready to show face?”

“Always.”

  
The commentators introduce Tooru almost immediately after and he stands from his seat and smiles broadly, giving a light wave as people clap and cheer. The high schoolers are shook, shock that wanes in their demeanor when they realize that a pro-athlete is in the stands watching the game. And they have every reason to get nervous, because as if Tooru was a beacon of light and agents were moths, the moths are here for a reason. 

The game begins when he takes a seat and he’ll comment on a specific play. If the crowd is too loud, he’ll lean over to whisper in your ear about his thoughts on the game and what each team could have done better in. Towards the end of the second set, you’re watching Natsu as if she was under a microscope.

Your hand instinctively goes to your phone when he notes how impressive her offense was and you stand to step away, already making a call. “I want her.” You speak into the receiver calmly. “Let’s make sure we get her in the draft pick after she graduates.”

He watches you from his seat, eyes trailing from your neck and down your back until it lands on your ass before he flits his gaze back over to the game. It’s something about seeing someone in action, someone who’s confident in their work, someone who can make dreams come true with just a phone call. How lucky Natsu would be, to have agents pining over her, promising her a lifestyle that she wouldn’t be prepared for. Because he sure as hell wasn’t.

The game comes to an end and you’re already leaving the stands when you come across Aaron again “Look, she’s spoken for.”

“On the contrary,” he starts, fiddling with his watch for a bit before he pulls his phone out of his pocket. There’s a knowing look that makes you realize that something is off. The confident aura of his making the hair raise on your neck.

Your heart just fell to the deepest pit in your stomach, eyes wide and suddenly your mouth seems so dry. The sound is faint from the external noises of the crowds and cheers from the winning team, but you can still make it out clear as day and you don’t even need to see the video to know what it is. Your moans, the desk creaking, and Tooru’s unmistakable voice.

“I’m going to handle the rookie.” Aaron pauses dramatically and grins. “I’m honestly surprised. I didn’t take him for your type.”

Aaron takes a moment to search for Tooru, who’s talking to a tall guy with black spiky hair. “You know the issue of contractual interference don’t you?”

You don’t need to respond. Of course you knew. There’s an unspoken rule of thumb to never sleep with a client. The last person who did simultaneously ended their career as well as the athlete’s and you’re stuck at attention. Take for instance, Myles Mendes. He was an agent who sealed billion dollar deals. Signed a gymnast at the prime of his career, had her ready to go to the Olympics when news broke out that the two were in a relationship. A primarily messy situation that left him in hibernation and caused her to lose out on the contract he had finagled for her. Eventually, she was signed by another agent, but her reputation was tarnished from rumors and Mendes? He’s only a name now.

“We gotta deal?”

You nod numbly.

“Cool, send me over your file on her. Oh, and I’ll be keeping this.” He waves his phone lazily, “for insurance.”

Agents are commonly referred to as as wolves for a number of reasons. Wolves are wild animals that cannot be domesticated. They’ll bite the hand that feeds them. They’ll do anything to ensure that they continue to lead the pack. And if another person wants to be the Alpha? Then they won’t stop at nothing until they conquer.


	6. Step 4: Take A Step Back Pt. 2

Fear is like riding a roller coaster and you hate heights or walking on an unlit path home and you fear the dark. Fear causes the fight or flight response. The response that has you perceiving the the threat and consider what in the seven hells were your best option. The pit in your stomach seems to have widen and deepened, and it feels like you’re falling through a black hole. Your heart is pounding against its rib cage as a number of thoughts went through your head. The five w's are relaying through your brain, trying to come up with a trajectory to at least get an idea of what you're up against. 

“The janitor.” You almost whimper out, desperately attempting to steel your voice but failing. His victorious smile was hard to miss when he turned back around to watch his long-time rival shaking in her shoes. It's almost like he's living for your fear, like he's a sadist at heart. 

As if he was deciding whether to tell you or not, he tsk’ed, maybe from surprise or sheer thrill that you snitched on yourself. “No! God, really? You guys fucked in front of a janitor?” He starts to chuckle shaking his head from disbelief. Disbelief because he's not sure how the brunette athlete managed to break your walls down to even let the situation happen. Despite the minor tribulation, he sighs and shrugs. More to himself than you.

“Then, who?” You take a step forward, hands balling into fists.The thing about Aaron is he did his job so well, instead of a four person-team like you had, he handled things on his own because he hated to split commission. He’s a lone wolf, choosing to represent clients from all across the trade instead of focusing on only one category. And it floors you how you can’t even do anything. How he’s untouchable. Not a sliver of ammo that could bring him down with you.

Aaron shrugs, watching Tooru walk up to you two and gives a confident smile. The one he gives Shannon Sharpe on Skip and Sharp: Undisputed, when he brags about his clients. The one he uses when he’s laughing about his rivalry with you in interviews. The one he uses when he scores a multi-million dollar contract. The same exact one he uses when he snatched the rookie like she was the last piece of cake at a bakery. “I’ve got nothing against you. In fact, I think you’re a goddamn pioneer for women agents. But, business is business. So, out of respect, I’ll let you think on this before I make a play... Think harder. Think _smarter.”_

You furrow your brows and cross your arms. The two of you are stuck in those cowboy-movie like standoffs, one just waiting for the other to concede defeat and blink.And then you blink, because your dignity was already gone anyways. It was how he condescended your choices as you would anyone else who did what you did. Metaphorically placing you under a car and running over you... at least five times... on a highway. The video or whatever he had was just an indication of how far gone you were and it doesn’t make it any better that Tooru is standing next to you, towering over the 170 cm agent with the usual leveled look he uses when he’s assessing a situation. You know, the one with the sharp, dark eyes and a slight up-twitched smile. He doesn’t need to say anything to make his presence known, and that’s enough for Aaron to do a double-take. Because why is your client backing you in a situation that has nothing to do with him? At least, _he's_ not supposed to know that. 

“Any-ways.” He sounds out the syllables and gives a knowing smirk to the volleyball player. “Congrats on your signing deal, man. Hope for _many_ more.”

You’re stuck watching his retreating figure, mouth dry as cotton. You’re so fucked.

“What did he say to you?” Tooru’s voice breaks the shield around you. His hand brushes against the lone strand of hair from the bun on the nape of your neck, thumb grazing the bare skin before his hand retracts as if he was only picking a speck of lint off of you. He gives you a small smile, the one that you know is from genuine concern.

You knew his touch too well now. Subliminal touches here and there, just enough to make you feel something but, never enough to ease the ache in your lower body. It would be a lot easier to cut ties, throw him to another agent and wipe your hands clean. Besides, if Aaron did want to oust you, it would only be a matter of time before he did and you’ve got a feeling it was going to be as soon as the pro-league in the states is completely formed. Your attention falls on him, lashes fluttering to look up, your dry mouth felt like it’s been in a drought for months.

He’s gorgeous with glasses, so damn eatable. Yes, you would eat him. Swallow him whole for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Maybe even for dessert, too. And maybe it’s the thrill of pining after someone you shouldn’t. The thrill of indulging in secret shows of affection that was for nobody’s eyes but the two of yours. It's like one look at him was enough to forget about the destruction of Pompeii behind you. Pompeii being your career, as dramatic as that sounds. 

On the flight here, you two may or may not have joined the mile high club. It wasn’t a primarily empty flight, but the first-class seats were only filled at 20% capacity and your client needed help with something in the bathroom, okay? And who are you, his trusted and beloved agent to say no?

And if he wants to lift you in that tiny space and fuck you until you’re crying out his name in hushed whimpers, so be it. If he wants you to be a good girl and suck him off whilst he’s driving to the venue, you will indeed be a good girl for him. With hollowed cheeks and a tongue that wraps and licks at every vein of his cock until he’s twitching all in your mouth, just before you two reach the gymnasium for the game. And when he pulls up into the parking spot, he’ll wipe the remaining cum from your lip with his thumb, hooking it in your mouth for you to suck, because good girls don’t leave any cum left behind.

“Hi, still there?” He teases, it’s hard to miss how your pupils would dilate every time you’re reminiscing on not so innocent flashbacks.

You nudge his shoulder, walking with him to the parking lot. “Just wondering if you wanted to finish what we started in the car.”

Tooru smirks, a light perk in his steps ensue as you two walk together. “Oh-hoh! I think my agent likes sex in small spaces~”

“Shut up!”

You’ll worry about the repercussions later. You know the saying, worry about something when the time comes? Yeah, that’s what you’re gonna work with for now. Because if you’re gonna fall, might as well milk the benefits for all it’s worth before you can’t. And besides, you’re actually starting to like time spent with Oikawa Tooru. As annoying and dramatic as he is, there’s a compelling presence about him. Maybe his ambition or his sex-drive.. either way, you are the company you keep. And you’ll take a step back when you need to, it won’t be hard. Right?

—

Wrong. Absolutely wrong. You didn’t think this through and were thinking with your pussy. You _had_ to be.

In a hotel room with Tooru, you’re laying in the same bed, watching the all-star game while his head is between your legs, licking and prodding at your drenched slit with lewd sounds that’s making it almost impossible to read or listen to a play.

His head pops up, cheeks glistening wet with a devilish grin. “Nobody told you to stop, come on. I wanna know what’s going on, too~”

Your mouth gapes. “Wh-Huh?”

“ _Huh_?” He mocks, and slaps your clit. “Tell me about it.”

“R-right. Uh, Kuzma’s gonna win the MVP award ‘cause of his— FUCK!” You gasp, back arching when his tongue swipes at your slit again, he’s lapping at it, spitting on it, and rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb.

“Go on,” he sings against your cunt, laughing softly when your fingers clutch at his scalp, trying to push him back into you.

You writhe underneath him, hips involuntarily bucking into his face while he prods his tongue into you, lapping at the juices and practically moaning at the taste. He’s so fucking nasty and he knows it, when his eyes flick up to you, giving you that eye smile while he nips at your folds.

“He passed to Williamson for an alley-oop, and.. and, shit-.”

Tooru glances behind him at the tv, and hums. “Game’s over. Bad job, ‘C’ for effort.”

Your eyes widen at the lack of contact as he lays his cheek on your leg while looking back, his hand idly massaging the tension in your thigh while he listens to the commentary with feigned interest. “Come back.” You whine, shaking the leg he was laying on. “Tooru!”

He looks back over at you. Your submissiveness making his resolve falter slightly as you stare at him with glassy eyes and a pout. Such a contrast to how you are on a day-to-day basis. “Nope! Bad girls don’t get rewarded. Maybe if you beg.”

_Beg_? Your eyes narrow and you sit up abruptly. “‘M not gonna beg.”

Tooru smirks and shrugs. “That’s okay.” He rolls over on his back, tugging his pants down while he stares up at you with a devious look. “Since you don’t want to beg, I guess you’ll just have to watch. Maybe you’ll pay attention to this.”

He lifts a hand to gather the slickness from your cunt and rubs it over his cock with a shit-eating grin, pumping his shaft slowly. There’s a flex in his biceps with each movement, your own resolve wavering from the sight of him pleasuring himself in front of you.He moans your name, tells you to keep watching him jack off with comments of how turned on you look and that it’s a shame you wouldn’t help him cum. With each jerk and every rub of his head, your thighs rub against each other to quell the heat between your legs, teeth biting at your bottom lip every time he lets out a deep sigh or a dramatic groan, and the gag was he never looked away from you. Toffee-colored irises that are basically telling you to beg for it. Beg for him.

But you won’t beg. Despite your resolve snapping in half, you crawl over to him, settling on top of his body on all fours as your mouth envelopes his cock, his hand growing lax when you swallow him with hollowed cheeks. The tip of his dick twitches in your mouth, a low groan escapes him when your tongue wraps around his cock. He pulls your lower body down onto his face, hands gripping your ass as he sucks on your clit. Your body rocks into him, moaning against his dick when he slips a finger inside of you, curling it against the ridges of your walls, still sucking on your clit and grazing it with his teeth as he shakes his head left and right to nuzzle into your sopping cunt.

You’re moaning helplessly into his cock, tears pricking at your lids while you bob your head up and down, a hand wrapping around the rest of his shaft that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. The feeling in your gut is tightening, a coil rebuilding itself and your walls throb against his finger.

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.” He drawls against your clit, exhaling through his nose with a soft chuckle when you buck against his mouth.

You can feel his cock twitch in excitement as you shudder your lower body against him, cheeks hollowing out again, hand twisting around his shaft, head bobbing at a tempo. You feel his breath hitch against your clit, his finger quickly sliding in and out of you, and you can tell he’s close too from the tightening of his abs and the way his hips rock against you, thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth that causes you to gag out of reflex.

Your eyes flutter shut, a loud moan vibrating his dick, cunt convulsing against his finger and you’re trying to hold yourself upright. He’s still sucking on your clit, more gently, as he helps you ride out your orgasm. Your body is involuntarily twitching, nerves sporadic while you’re sucking him off, tongue swirling around his head before you slide your mouth back down and lick at the veins on his dick. You feel his hips buck up, the hands gripping the flesh from your cheeks tightly as his breathing harshens against your slit, nipping and sucking your labia with those lewd noises that make you quiver.

His cock twitches again and the grip on your ass tightens when cum shoots out of his slit and into your mouth. He groans against your cunt, head falling back onto the bed as his hands slide down to your thighs, kneading into them gently.

You pump his dick to pull out the last bit of his cum, moaning from the taste and pull off his cock with a loud pop. Sitting up on top of him still, you glance back at him with a grin, licking the cum off your lips. “Tastes good.”

He smirks, pupils dilated from his orgasm. He pulls your body back until your back is to his chest and he rolls over, pressing the front of your body into the bed. His head drops to the crook of your neck, kissing just under your ear. “I’m not done, yet. I'm going to make you beg for me."”

—

An incessant ringing and vibration wakes you. Your hand flies to your phone on the end table, an arm wrapped around your waist preventing you from fully lifting up. You lift the phone to your ear and take a moment to push the sleep out your voice. “Hold on.” 

_Shit. Shit. Shit._ You shuffle out of the bed, pushing Tooru’s arm off of you and grab a shirt from the floor, slipping it on before opening the door to the balcony and closing it softly.Putting the phone back to your ear, you take a seat on the wicker chair and continue on with the call. You fixate yourself in front of the city lights of Miyagi, faintly comparing it to the contrast of the infrastructure from back home in the States. However, your attention wavers when you hear the voice of your assistant, telling you to take a look at something she sent you. Your heart drops.

Mind in a whirlwind, you start trembling, and if anyone were to ask, it’s just cold outside. Did Aaron really leak it after you gave him the rookie? How are you going to finagle yourself out of this situation? You barely had a day to come up with a plausible workaround. 

_Oikawa Tooru relationship with Sports Agent, hear the tell all from ex-girlfriend Ito Haru below._

" _She said that you're the home wrecker. This is bad."_

"I know."

_"Legally you didn't do anything wrong, but, it definitely puts you in a bind and the firm thinks that the best thing to do is for you to take a leave of absence for a little bit to give us time to manipulate the story and let it cool over. We'll be taking over your current clients for now until you return, just take a vacation-"_

You're zoned out at this point, a constant dull beat against your ears that sounds like your own heartbeat. You see a text message pop up.

**A. Shore:** _Seems like I didn't even have to do anything. You're gonna have to fold all of your cards soon, lovie._

You let out a guttural scream, smashing your phone against the patio table. The sound of glass cracking and the empty scotch glass rolling to the ground in a shattering noise. Your hands fly to your hair, staring at all the shards on the table and ground, your chest is heaving from the adrenaline rush, tears starting to prick at the corner of your lids before you pad over to the railing and grip the fence, lowering your head on the cool wrought iron. You want to punch something, anything, but the only thing you can do is choke on your sobs and watch the tears drop onto the ground before you. Hurt. Fear. Anger. Having everything taken away from you. Everything you worked so hard for, just like that. From a simple lack in judgement. But, you felt relief. Relief that you couldn't understand. Relief that you didn't have any remorse for indulging in it. How ironic is that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woh-hohhhhh, the plot thickensssss. Remember "ex"-gf?
> 
> Soundtrack: All the Stars - Kendrick Lamar, SZA. " Girl, let's talk about love; Is it anything and everything you hoped for?; Or do the feeling haunt you?; I know the feeling haunt you"


	7. Step 5: Take Two Steps Forward

“I would think that you’d save your craziness for later down the road.” A honey-laced voice jokes from the door. Tooru is leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, the expression on his face doesn’t match the lilt on his tone. He’s tired, bags under his eyes that still have the remnants of sleep laced into his irises, but worry and confusion and even a little mix of irritation can be seen as well and it makes him look older than what he is.

You’re still laying your head on the iron fence, body hunched over with your hair cascading all sides of your face. There’s that constant ache in your chest that makes it hard to breathe, almost like a hand holding your heart, squeezing and constricting the circulation. You thought you were on the verge of hyperventilating for a moment, then remembered your therapist’s advice and breathed in the cool air, counting to ten before exhaling your breath that whispered into smoke from the chill. 

To be frank, for an outsider looking in, the situation wasn’t as bad as it seemed. To someone that knew the world, was aware of the exclusivity, and knows how hard it is to make a name of yourself in a league a woman had no business being in, they know how devastating it is. When you put hard work into years building your clientele, making connections, building a reputation, losing it all is like losing a baby. It’s like being qualified for the Olympics and then you rupture your Achilles or get into an accident. It’s like having everything you could ever want in the world and then you lose it all because you wanted to get behind a wheel drunk and wreck into somebody. It’s like you’re in your final semester of school and you take the NCLEX and fail by 3 points. It’s devastating. A wound to the ego and pride. 

If you weren’t labeled as a home wrecker then, maybe, just maybe, you could work with the story. But, her little interview specifically said that you were the mistress while he was still together with her. And she claims that they’ve been in a long time relationship for years. The good thing is, she didn’t mention any sorts of sexual relations, so she must not know about the little rendezvous, unless she was withholding it. You’d have to give it to her, she’s smart, milking some news to the press for probably a decent amount of money. If it was anyone else and not yourself, you’d be laughing your way to the bank, too. Maybe it’s karma from fucking over so many agents. Or maybe it’s karma from hazing in Cambridge—which you have formally apologized to everyone that was involved. Or maybe it’s karma for feeling something you have no business in exploring. 

Tooru, who hasn’t checked his phone yet, is awfully quiet. He’s been watching you like a hawk, kind of unsure if you’d flip off the railing since you proceeded to smash every object in sight on the balcony. He hears the door to the hotel-room knock and his gaze on you lingers for a bit more, before he goes to answer the door. 

There’s a number of things racking through his brain aside from sleep deprivation. Only one thing could make you lose your cool, and if it’s what he thinks it is, then there’s a bigger issue at hand. On his end, he’d be alright. He’s a signed athlete, and he knows that in this industry, a man would get away with a lot more than a woman. Shrugging off his thoughts with a roll of his shoulders, he cracks the door open and peeks his head through. “Good morning!” 

The security officer raises a brow, looking up and down Tooru’s body. The setter was only wearing boxer briefs. “We received a noise complaint and someone screaming. Is everything alright?” 

Tooru glances down at his own lack of clothes and laughs nervously, shifting the door a bit to hide his lower half region. “Of course, sorry about that. My girlfriend and I were just celebrating.” 

“Celebrating, huh?” Security officer is not buying it, peeking through the cracked door to see if there’s anything amiss. 

Tooru blinks and nods. “Yes—“

“You look familiar... Hm... Oikawa Tooru!” Definitely a change in emotion, being an athlete had its perks. “My sister used to play your school!” 

Ah yes, milk the athlete card. He breaks into a chesire grin. “That’s me~”

“Woah, nice! My apologies, just uh, keep it down okay? It’s pretty early in the morning.. 0200. And congratulations on your relationship—,” the officer leans in to whisper, “I’m actually a big fan of TMZ...” 

Tooru maintains his grin despite the loose gear finally connecting. TMZ,  _ huh._ “Thank you, sorry about that.” He bids his adieu and closes the door, slipping on some hotel slippers they provided before he walks back over to the balcony, where it’s freezing and he’s sure he’s shriveling up. “I’m assuming whatever’s on TMZ is why you’re trying to freeze to death.” 

You feel him step on glass, the solid crunching underneath his feet and stiffen up when he places a warm hand on your back. How he manages to stay so calm, bewilders you. But, maybe it’s because he’s a guy and not a woman. Maybe it’s because if he gets ousted, the world sees him as  the man . Whereas, if a woman gets ousted, she’s seen as a sex symbol. A woman who’s not strong enough to reject advances. Emotional, even.  _ A bad look for agents _ . See the irony in that? 

“It’s out.” 

Tooru shifts on his feet a bit, skin prickling up, because he’s in 5ºC weather that’s making his dick shrivel since only a thin piece of fabric is separating it from the cold. He’s at the point where it’d be much better if you just came back inside, worry about it in a comfortable environment. Your chill bumps are raised on your skin as well, the slight tremor in your body was either from the cold or you breaking down. He’s assessing the situation, a gentle, calloused hand running down your spine and for a moment, he notices your tremors calm and he smiles lightly. 

“Your stupid ass girlfriend ousted it. Have you been telling her about us?” You dryly ask, not realizing how it made you sound until you said it and grimaced. “About what we’ve been.. uh.. _doing_.” You corrected yourself. 

Tooru blinks. “She’s not my girlfriend... We’ve texted from time to time but, I haven’t said anything about you other than the obvious. Can we go back inside? It’s cold.” 

Your instinct is to grab your phone until you realized the phone was part of the damage you’ve done. “You go inside.” 

Tooru rolls his eyes at the childish response. “Fine.” He walks back into the room and lifts his phone off of the end-table, pausing when he sees a series of group texts from his team and old friends from Seijoh, all congratulating him on bagging a  gorgeous sports agent . They said. Even Hajime sent him an individual text, saying that he was glad Tooru finally found love in a place other than volleyball and that he was finally not a hopeless case. He chuckles fondly. Finally, he sees a text message from the culprit herself and quickly responds. 

_**Haru** :  I told you I hope it was worth it. _

_**Tooru** : She has nothing to do with it. Do you realize what you’ve done?  _

_**Haru** : Of course you’d take up for her. You always wanted the bitches who you’d never be good enough for.  _

_ Never be good enough for.  _ He pauses for a moment and opts on not responding when she sends another text. Not good enough? Was he not good enough for you? His gaze wanders over to you and then his mind lingers on past events with you. The feeling of not fitting in to a world he had no choice but to do just that. The way you smiled so easily amongst athletes who he looked up to. How your closet had its own section for just jewelry and designer bags. You graduated from Cambridge, he was signed right after high school. You came from money, he was middle class. Was he not good enough? 

The relationship with his ex was rocky if anything, she always mentioned he set his dreams too high, that’d he never amount to anything and that volleyball was only a means to an end. That he’s living in a fantasy world and needs to come back to reality. A part of him wants to believe it. He’s believed it for so long, if it wasn’t for Shoyou meeting him in Argentina, maybe he would have came back to Sendai. Then, he remembers what you’ve said to him. How you worked nights and weekends to make sure he landed his endorsements and campaigns. The GQ shoot in a suit that he finally had enough to afford three times over. But, most importantly, your kindness and devotion. The words you said to him when his heart was on his sleeve, when he opened up to you out of vulnerability and trust.  _You have friends in high places now. You’ll do great things._ And he has done great things. He’s signed an extension with San Juan, an agreement to be Argentina’s official setter was set in stone, and he was even able to pay off his sister’s house for his nephew.  _I won’t let you fail. Your success is personal to me. I’ve got you. _ You helped him succeed. You were his safety net, a force to be reckoned with. You didn’t let him fall. He meant something to you. He is good enough. 

_**Haru** : Meet me for lunch. Please. I’ll explain everything_. 

He runs a hand through his hair and throws the phone on the bed before he pads back outside to you. “It’s cold outside, you should probably come in.” 

You don’t respond, you’ve been grabbing the railing for the past thirty minutes until your knuckles were white.“Are you just gonna ignore what your girlfriend said?” 

“She’s not my girlfriend—.” 

“Doesn’t matter if she is, if she isn’t, if she’s your wife—” You turn around and face him, cheeks rosy from the cold.“I lost my clients, I got put on LOA. Apparently, I’m in some relationship I didn’t even know about, because you can’t keep your fucking bitches in order!” You yell and frown, instantly apologizing for your tone before you correct it with a saccharine tone. 

“I don’t care what you do, who you mess with, who you’re dating. What I care about is the fact that messing around with you has singlehandedly ruined my career. No clients will want to sign with me, I’m going to be blacklisted out of fear of association. I probably already lost my job. Do you know how hard it is for women to be in a male-dominated work environment?”

Tooru leans his body against the door. Your anger was cute. Definitely another side of you he hasn’t seen before. He couldn’t help but suppress the smile that wanted to form. “It’s not all my fault, you could have easily rejected my advances. I think we both equally played a part in this.” 

“So, how did she find out, then?” 

“I’ll find out.” He will. He promises. 

Your shoulders slump and you sag against the railing, your frown growing more prominent, but you won’t cry in front of him. You refuse to cry. “Fine. Okay.” 

“Now, come back to bed. Can we worry about all of this after we get some sleep, please?” He asks calmly, extending a hand for you take before he realizes the glass on the ground and steps forward to you. 

“We’re not together.” You shoot out quickly. 

Tooru chuckles and nods. “I know that, but we can still sleep together. Like we’ve been doing, come on.” He wraps his arms around you, lifting you up so your legs can wrap around his waist. He made it look so effortless, like you didn’t weigh a thing and he walked back into the hotel room, closing the door with a hand before he takes off his slippers and lays you down on the bed. 

There’s a rush of heat flowing into your body, maybe from the change in temperature or these acts of kindness. Maybe because he’s not freaking out on his own end. You turn your body to face him as he takes another glance at his phone, sending another text before he places it on the end table. “So, now what?” 

Tooru slides back under the covers, turning on his side to face you. “Apparently we’re dating now.” 

“Which we aren’t.” 

“Which we aren’t,” he parrots, “But, Haru wants to meet me tomorrow for lunch. She might be able to tell me something.”

“I want to know how she got her information and what exactly it is.” 

Tooru brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “I’ll figure it out.” He affirms. 

You sigh. “...Thank you.” 

He smiles and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. “ _ I won’t let you fail, I’ve got you.”  _

A repeat of your words to him. Your eyes widen momentarily but you can’t help the smile that forms before you snuggle into his chest and close your eyes, being lulled to a sleep by his hand that’s rubbing your back in the same gentle, swiping motion. 

—

The cafe in Sendai takes Tooru down memory lane. Back to younger days with a one-track mind of only volleyball. A time where he basked in the idea of innocent and naive teenage love. A love that he found so much harder to carry when the sun set and when he was left with only his thoughts. He’s sitting in front of Haru, his first love and heartbreak. 

“Hi, Tooru. Want to start with an appetizer?”

He watches her for a moment and settles back into the chair. “I’m okay, thank you.” 

“Oh, I forgot. You athletes are on strict diets. Are you fucking your nutritionist also?” 

He doesn’t show any emotion as he watches her. “You have too much time on your hands to think.” 

Haru snorts and clasps her hands together. The both of them are sitting in silence for awhile. Neither wanting to say anything to each other until she breaks the silence. “Don’t you want to know why I did it?” 

“Sure. Go ahead.” He looks down at the menu, perusing through it. At least, that’s what it’s supposed to look like. 

“I asked you if you wanted to work it out. We spent all of high school together, Tooru. You said you loved me and you always would. And that you’d come back for me and then I find out you’re out, sleeping with other women and then.. for some reason, I saw how happy you looked with  _ her_.” 

He looks up from the menu. “She has nothing to do with us. Look at where we are. We’ve been over for awhile.”

She’s taken aback. Chestnut colored eyes that he once found himself willingly lost in are now a shade of russet hues that are too muddied. “You wanted me to wait for you while you’re doing whatever in Argentina—“

“I’ve been working, Haru. Don’t try to make an excuse for why you brought someone else into our problem.” He’s lost all patience, sighing out of frustration. 

“But, I can still see the way you looked at her in those pictures, Tooru. I know you, I know because that’s how you used to look at me..” 

He blinks and sits back again, tongue prodding in his cheek. “So you’re telling me, you got jealous and decided to start a rumor that would affect someone... all because of what? Rumors like that aren’t taken lightly.”

She hesitates. 

“How much did they pay you?” 

She looks taken aback before she looks down guilty. “A lot of money..” 

Tooru scoffs and shakes his head. 

“Don’t you dare judge me, Tooru!” She points a finger at him. “You don’t realize how hard it is, to live out here. Working a 9-5 every day just to only make ends meet.—“

“You don’t get to tell me how _hard_ _it is_. I sacrificed everything to get to where I am.” He responds and shrugs. “You were the one who said I wouldn’t amount to anything. That my dreams were only dreams. That I should stop trying to shoot so high. And now, look at you.Using my success to profit off of it. Because you what, just wanted money?” 

Her eyes widen and she frowns. “If wasn’t just about the money...”

“So you did it because you wanted me to suffer? Or her? He asks and sighs again, laying his arm on the chair next to him. 

“She doesn’t deserve you.” Haru counters, balling her fists on the table. 

“I hardly think that’s your decision to make. Do you realize how crazy you sound? You’re mad at another woman who has done nothing to you. It’d make more sense if you were trying to defame me.” 

“Can you blame me for being jealous?” 

No, he couldn’t. You were a whole package. Great career, a thoroughbred, gorgeous body. He loved your waist and your thighs. Your personality was endearing. A more confident version of himself, even. A little haughty and arrogant, kind of temperamental. Sharp tongue—great tongue... most importantly, he enjoyed the authenticity of your company. The lack of desire to play himself as Oikawa Tooru of Argentina but, just Tooru. Tooru, the man who second guesses his worth sometimes. Tooru, the one whose insecurity will be at its peak over a race to be the best. Tooru, the one who finds solace in your touch, in your presence. Because he thrives off of your energy, and you his. Like a synergy. And he can’t help but chuckle to himself that causes her frown to deepen. “I suppose not.”

Menu’s forgotten for awhile, the waiter stops by to ask if they’re ready to order which Tooru takes the lead once again and says a water is just fine. He’s not planning to stay any longer. Haru’s eyes are starting to water because she’s noticed that whimsical look flash across his face. The one where he’s reminiscing on memories and she knows it not about her. 

“How did you form your assumption?” 

She’s taken aback, the shards of her heart buffeting into her tender skin. “A series of pictures at that charity event in Buenos Aires.” 

He blinks, mind whirling to remember that specific time. And then that point in time becomes vivid.

She pulls out her phone and opens a file, angling her body to scroll through a series of them. The first one in an empty space inside the venue, it looks inconspicuous enough, but the two of you are too close to each other. His mouth too close to your skin. 

_ His lips ghost over your ear as he whispers something in your ear, eyes scanning the crowd of wealthy public figures, a teasing grin on his face. His hand is on a spot that wouldn’t be appropriate for professionalism, just right above your ass as he peppers quick kisses from your jaw to your exposed neck, the in-line drop of your earring tickling his skin.  _

_ You’re laughing, body too close to him, chiffon rubs against a wool suit before you step in-front of him, greeting the main donors of the event with an easy smile. Turning your head back to glance at Tooru from your peripheral, you give him a silent look. The one that says to find you when he’s done cozying up with other people. When he’s done with making appearances alongside his team. To find you.  _

The next picture is you two hand-in-hand, him leading you somewhere. 

_ You’re giggling like a teenage kid, following behind him discreetly, looking behind you every so often to make sure you two aren’t being followed.  _

_ “Just live in the moment.” His voice grounds you, toffee-colored irises that spark with mirth when he stops you in an empty hallway that was sectioned off and pushes you against the wall, wasting no time to close the gap between you two as his lips encompass yours and moves at a languid pace despite his hands rubbing your exposed thigh from the slit of the dress.  _

_ Your moans echo throughout the corridor, hoisted up against a too-expensive picture that gets knocked off from your head falling back against it while he’s between your legs, breath fanning against each other with each hilt and each thrust. The thought of getting caught sending thrills down both of your spines as he keeps whispering in your ear to be quiet with giddy laughters between each kiss, foreheads pressed against together, bodies moving in tandem. _

The final set was a series of snapshots of you two in the parking deck towards the end of the night. 

_ Tooru opens the door for you, waiting for you to get inside before he leaves. But, you never do. He’s taken aback when your hands fist at the lapels of his blazer, pulling him down to kiss him. Cheeks painted red from the liquid courage and the disregard for this unspoken game who can get one or the other to cave first. Tooru’s hand finds the top of the car to steady himself and you, another hand cupping your cheek.  _

_ You moan into his lips, lust pooling into you with each graze of his thumb and how his tongue pressed against yours like a brush on a canvas. Heart fluttering in your chest as he leans into your touch with a slow grin breaking on his face and the kiss. Eye-lids heavy while you stare up at him through lashes.  _

_ “I knew you couldn’t get enough of me~” _

Tooru takes a moment, taking another sip of his water when she reaches the end of the file. His attention switches to her when he sees the clench in her jaw, the pain that radiates off of her in increments. The phone in her hand is trembling. He’s not sorry. “I see.” 

There’s tears that are pricking at her eyelids, watering until it slides down her porcelain skin. At one point in time, he loved her gentleness. Her soft-spoken nature. The epitome of grace and beauty. Skin like silk, contrasting to his tanned skin full of scars and blotches of sun spots. Hands as soft as a flower contrasting to his calloused ones. Delicate emotions that came crashing down like a broken dam. He broke her. But, he’s not sorry. “Why her?” 

Should he continue to deny it? Would it help your case? Probably not. Why not you? He couldn’t think of one reason as to why not, but he could think of a million as to why. 

“Who paid you?” 

She clenches her fist. “Tooru, I can’t...” 

He waves a dismissive hand. His voice drops an octave, all jokes aside as the conversation shifts.“Who paid you?”

“...the firm that she worked with.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NGL, I’ve done something similar to Haru when I was hopelessly in love with my ex lol and I felt like the biggest idiot when I grew up and realized how stupid I looked. My ex fell in love with his coworker after he already told me he fell out of love with me and I forced him to stay with me (toxic ik), so I called his job and sent them screenshots of their relationship and shit lol. Mind you, he was in military so it’s like against regulations to cheat on your spouse. Anyways she got ousted as a home wrecker or whatever but fast forward, we divorced and they’re together but, he honestly looks soooo much happier and I can’t be happier. Thanks for listening to my TED talk haha. 
> 
> SN: no girl is crazy just to be crazy, there’s always a reason why she does crazy shiiiit. Period. 
> 
> Soundtrack: Dakiti - Bad Bunny & Jhay Cortez - Who’s going to talk about us? If we don't let ourselves be seen (Do you follow me?); Baby, I don't go against you; And I always give it to you; And if you hit me up, we're going to swim in the deep end.


	8. Step 6: Make Sacrifices

Swirling a glass of wine at a patio table outside while overlooking the Atlantic Ocean seems like the dream to most. There’s something mesmerizing about watching the yellow translucent liquid coat the glass before the remaining liquid slides back down to the pool of wine. Metaphorically, you were watching the crash and drown—in this case—future of your career. After a long meeting with your PR team and then, your boss, and then every-fucking-body at the firm, the majority decided that the best thing to do was play it off and keep it low-key for awhile. In your boss’ words, let the story marinate and then turn it around. Should be easy enough, right?

Wrong.

_“Let the story marinate? Play it cool?” You slammed your hands on the table, making all the other agents flinch, your assistant included. “I racked up the most in commissions these past two years, all of you are a bunch of snakes.” You’re gonna marinate, alright. Marinate on their shocked expressions. Turning around to face your assistant whose sitting in the corner of the room, you snarl. “Especially, YOU.”_

_A senior agent coughs. “You need to calm down, are you on your period?”_

_Your head snaps towards his direction.” Fuck you, BRAD—”_

_“It’s Brandon—”_

_“Let’s not forget, Brad. That you were caught doing a line of coke with some prostitutes in Miami. And ALL of you vouched for him, like he’s a motherfucking disciple or some shit!” You swivel around and glower at the other agent. Red was all you saw, heart thumping at a rapid pace. “And, you!”_

_“M-me?”_

_“You stole my promotion you vile, pussy bitch!” You scream, slamming your palm against the table again to make him jump. “You fucking suck! The only reason you’re here is because you do everyone’s bitch work! Too busy licking their balls to realize that they STEAL YOUR COMMISSION UNDER YOUR NOSE EVERY TIME!”_

_Your name is called by either the PR team or your boss but, you lift a finger.” One more thing.” You turn and face your assistant again, putting on the biggest saccharine sweet smile you can. “You wanna sell a story to undermine me? Wanna play in the big leagues? Good luck, they will all **devour** you.”_

_Finally finished with your long awaited vent session, you grab your purse from your chair and pause for a moment, wondering how you can add more insult to injury, because you’re going to be regretting this blow-up down the road when you’re looking at a sorry excuse of a bank account and can only depend on your investments that may or may not plummet. Glancing at your Cartier Skeleton on your wrist, you unclasp it and shuck it at your assistant, ensuring it landed right into her nose._

_“Here. Fossil watches aren’t cute anymore. What are you, in high school? Consider this my last gift to you. I FUCKING QUIT!” You storm out the boardroom, smirking triumphantly from everyone’s jaw being dropped open. Pausing, you peek your head back in the door for one last statement._

_“Also, I’m taking my fucking so-called boyfriend with me, fuckers! MY NAME is on the contract!”_

It wasn’t your brightest moment. As soon as you left, deals and sponsorships dropped like dead flies. And as much as you wanted to ensure Tooru that it was going to be fine and you’d handle it, you’d be a moron to give a seasoned athlete false hope. He’s at the point in his career where he can smell a lie from a mile away and it also doesn’t help that your casual entanglement with him morphed into something you wouldn’t know how to explain.

_You’re laying in your bed, watching him prop his phone against something as he cleaned up around his mother’s house while she was gone. He was wearing an old t-shirt and some athletic shorts, hair mussed from probably just waking up when you called him._

_“So, you walked out?” He asks, putting away the glass cups in a cupboard._

_“...yeah.”_

_Tooru glances behind him to look at you before he shakes his head and resumes putting away dishes. “And you took me with you? I’m not sure if I should be concerned or flattered.”_

_Ouch. You bite back a retort that was already flying out your mouth. “You know what— I mean... I’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”_

A moron indeed.

_“This is my career we’re talking about. As much as I’d like to not worry, well... you know.” He doesn’t need to elaborate. There was no question or doubt he trusted you but, it’s not assuring to know that you didn’t have a team... or any connections... or anything really. Talk about a blow to your ego._

_You sigh and shuffle around, propping the phone on your bed-stand and make sure your body is on full display. “Look at me~”_

_Tooru glances back at his phone and smiles. “Cute. Is that new?” He’s referring to your matching bra and panty set._

_“You should know, didn’t you buy it?” You shoot back._

_Tooru hums, turning around to lean against the kitchen counter, arms crossed to watch you. “I think so, give me a closer look so I can make sure.”_

_You grin and inch closer to your phone._

_Tooru squints, craning his neck slightly with a teasing smile. “Do you trust me?”_

_You blink. “Yes?”_

_“You sure?” He asks, grabbing his phone to take you with him upstairs to his bedroom._

_You hum, watching him settle onto his bed, an arm behind his head. “Yeah. I’m sure.”_

_“Okay.” He doesn’t say anything more, flipping the view to show the view of his hard-on. You loved phone sex with him._

It was the beginning of another off-season again. Which meant you had approximately two weeks before he went back to San Juan to spend the rest of his off-season there. Which also meant that you spent a whole week laying on the sand and drinking your stress away, doing absolutely nothing but wallowing in self-pity and ruining your mind with stupid tabloids and articles. 

It didn’t help that whatever Tooru said to Haru, she had somehow obtained your phone number and would text you things you didn’t really care for. Apologies after apologies, sometimes she’ll text you paragraphs about Tooru. Other times she’ll threaten you and then text again and apologize. For the first few days, you thought it was pretty cute that Tooru had that effect on her. FaceTiming him to tell him about a story in his life that no one would know unless they went to school with him. The story about him getting knocked upside the head by his co-captain was hilarious and he was a blubbering mess. Then, it got annoying. Especially when she was presumably drunk. Whatever Tooru had, she was whipped. But, you would muse to yourself that he _is_ an endearing person. Confidence looked good on him. Self-worth looked better. But, you can contest him naked was best. Especially when the cockiness got the better of him.

As the week was coming to an end, you realized how much you were in and over your head. You had a four person team for a reason. You didn’t have a knack in financial planning and drafting up contracts weren’t your forte. Another blow to your ego, because the same way you were metaphorically looking at the crash and burn of your career, Tooru’s would be in the same boat as you if you didn’t think quick. So, you were out of options, seriously considering just calling up the only one-person team you could think of. What you didn’t expect was for the devil himself to answer your prayers and appear in the Carolinas.

“Hello, lovie. Looks like you’re deep in thought.” Aaron smirks, taking a seat right next to you.

“Stop calling me that, I’m not your blanket.” You mumble, downing another glass of Moët. You don’t bother to look at him, it might only make your blood boil and your last blow-up was enough to last you for awhile, maybe. 

He hums, crossing his legs and smoothing the fabric of his dress-pants. How he manages to wear a suit in the south beats you. It’s too humid to dress to the nines in this particular location. “No? Maybe you should call me that then.”

You snort despite a small smile forming. You’d go neck and neck with this guy for a client, throwing jabs left and right like Pacquiao and Mayweather, playing dirty just to do it. But, at the end of the day, when all is said and done, you’ll always have a place in your heart for the alumnus. Your first friend at Cambridge and your first rival in the business. The two of you climbed the ladder together, knocking down whoever got in the way. It only made sense the two of you would battle it out to acquire a client, eventually leading to this unspoken rift between you two. Of course, you two could have a cordial conversation when it didn’t include work, until you ostracized him in public and blacklisted him from any future events from Cambridge. Not even money could want them to label him as an Alumnus anymore. He stole your client! All is fair in war. And then, it began. The subliminal shade on interviews, the polite-arguments—as Tooru would call it—that would ensue in public outings. The divide between the better and the best.

He hands his card to the bartender before he takes a sip of his drink, following your attention to set on the waves. “It’s not fun when I’m the only 30 under 30 in the game anymore.”

You glance at him from your peripheral. “I thought you liked being at the top by yourself.”

Aaron clicks his tongue in displeasure. “No joy in that when there’s no competition.”

“Yet, you would have released basically a sex-tape. I wouldn’t exactly call it Kim worthy. ” You raise a brow at his amusement.

Aaron makes a disgusted face. “I didn’t watch it, what do you take me for a pervert? That’s besides the point! You could’ve easily made a run with it. I just wanted to make you sweat.”

“Defamation of character, I think not.”

“No? If I were in your shoes, I’d publicize a legal lawsuit, of course, I would hope you wouldn’t go through with it. My lawyers are top-notch.. But, you and pretty-boy could’ve made decent money from a settlement, could’ve played it off as a power-couple. After the shock of course!” Aaron pauses to take another sip of his drink, pursing his lips purposely to add a dramatic effect. “You were thinking too hard about how it would go wrong and not about how you could benefit from it. Not all bad publicity is bad.”

You lean back into your chair, nibbling on your bottom lip, and twirling the stem of your wine-glass.“You play too many games with me.”

Aaron smiles from your comment, nudging your shoulder lightly. “I just had to kick you off your power trip for a little, you understand, don’t you? Remember your play you made on me? Outing me as a member of the secret-society within Cambridge? An atrocious publicity stunt. You’re lucky I didn’t tell them about your stunt of purposely taping up new initiates and throwing them in the lake to... sink or swim, was it?”

“Huh, I forgot all about that.” You blatantly lied.

Sometimes you have to play dirty. Hence the reason why there’s an emphasis on having thick skin and an even better emphasis on agents needing to _be able to be resilient_ , at least that’s what’s recommended down the grapevine.

“Now, Rugby and Cricket players won’t even look my way.” He grumbles before it’s replaced with mirth. “An eye for an eye, I just didn’t expect your firm to play a part in it. They made it too easy, but, I _hate_ when people steal my ideas.”

“Very sadistic of you.”

“You’re smart, you’ll find a way to sliver your way out of this.”

You watch him from the corner of your eye when something clicks. He wants you to concede defeat, and you’re honestly contemplating it. Rome wasn’t built overnight, right? It’s been almost two weeks, deals backing out, relationships with other teams strained. Campaigns cancelling last minute. The lack of endorsements. It all affects Tooru, and your loud mouth had to bring him down with you when you left the firm. “I need a favor.”

Aaron blinks and turns to fully face you, intrigued and attentive. He notices the change in conversation before his face settles into a leveled look. “Favors must be returned.”

“You think I have a chance in managing him on my own?”

“Honestly, lovie?”

“Honestly, bub.” You respond, mocking his accent before turning your body as well. If there was anything Tooru taught you, it was to take risks. To understand your flaws and perfect them, as much as you hated to concur that he was right. And as much as you hated having to owe a debt, you had to admit that he was the only one you could possibly even trust at this point. To take care of the problem.

“I think...” He pauses finishing his glass before setting it on the table. “You know the answer to that already.”

It would be selfish to take the leap with someone else’s career when yours was uncertain. 

“We’re a season closer to the Olympics. It’s a bad business move for me to continue managing him.”It hurts you to say that, to relinquish control. But, it would hurt you more to see his career burst into flames because of your involvement. Who have you turned into?

Aaron purses his lips, a smirk growing again. “I’m not gonna work for free, lovie.”

“He’s been declared Argentina’s setter already, you’re going to make money.” You counter.

Aaron raises a brow. “I’m going to need an incentive to make me want to work for him.”

You exhale the breath you’ve been holding and down the last remaining bit of Moët. “I’ll give you my shares in that company you’ve been eyeing.”

“And?”

_And_?! For fucks sake. The things you do for Tooru. “You can have my investment property in Atlanta.”

Aaron hums and smiles. “Okay, now the payment plan, for helping your boyfriend.”

Here it comes. You steel your shoulders, jaw clenched so tight you’re sure a vein is popping out your neck by now.

“I want in on Rugby. You’re going to find my clients. And I get majority of the commission.” He grins. “That’s fair, right?”

“I’m not working for you, what the hell?!”

“Sorry, you can watch pretty-boy’s career crash and burn, then.” He shrugs.

“Fine!” You abruptly knock over the empty bottle of wine to grasp his arm, ignoring the loud noise and the patrons looking over. “Just... make sure he’s good.”

Aaron places a hand on his heart, eyes crinkling from joy. “Done deal. I should use him as leverage more often. Don’t worry, I won’t meddle between the trope between you two but, I’ll be taking whatever you earn from his deals.”

You frown. You’re basically going to be working for free. Doing all the dirty and hard work just to hand over a big fat check to Aaron. Throwing your pride to side because your heart was telling you to.

“He’ll be taken care of.” He affirms lifting his glass to yours. “Cheers, lovie. I can’t wait to have you back at the top with me, so we can continue our little rodeo dance together until we get old and wrinkly.. maybe you’ll still be with the pretty-boy, too?”

You roll your eyes but clink glasses with him nonetheless. What dignity do you have left? Apparently none.

“Oh, by the way. Tofu’s already reached out to me. He’s the one who called me here after all. But, since you already verbally agree to your payments, there’s no take backs~”

So, that’s why he asked if you trusted him. Your jaw clenches, watching his triumphant grin. He just finessed you out of an estate and stocks and Tooru, well. That’s another story. “Tooru.” 

“I’m sorry?” Aaron blinks.

“His name, it’s Tooru.”Trying to form a cohesive thought was becoming difficult and you reach for your empty glass of wine to find something to grasp, squeezing so tight that if the stem wasn’t so sturdy and malleable, it would have broken in half. 

“Too-row?”

“Tooru.” You’re almost convinced in drowning him in the Atlantic after dark.

“Ah, okay.” Aaron squints his eyes and turns around to call for the bartender. “Can we get a round of shots? Maybe something on the top-shelf Oh? That’ll do... Cheers, mate. We’re celebrating!” 

—

“So, let me get this straight. You’re _not_ dating her?” Hajime takes a swig from his bottle of Sapporo.

Tooru sighs, running a hand down his face to pull at his skin. “No—,”

“But, you want to?”

“Yes—,”

Will he let him finish? Guess not. Tooru’s used to the tough love now. Doesn’t mean he enjoys it, but, it gives him comfort to know that Iwa-Chan will always be there, whether it be from afar or right in front of him. Glaring daggers at him like he usually would do when Tooru cowards away from a conversation by giving fake laughs and a well-rehearsed eye smile. Or that one time Hajime accompanied Tooru to the gym and turned into a drill instructor. Will he ever go to the gym with Hajime again? Most likely not.

Either way, he’s not sure what’s worse in this moment. Hajime being able to read him like a book or the fact he’s starting to actually see you as someone he wouldn’t mind being in a relationship with anymore. This wasn’t part of his plan. He just wanted to play around, fuck his agent just to say he could do it, and then put his mind back on volleyball like he’s been doing. He didn’t think feelings would get involve, nor did he think that he would actually come to care for you. His biggest issue was mitigating the tribulation of what the public thinks, at least for you. He just knew that it could go one of two ways. 

“Then why are you being Shittykawa?” Hajime grumbles, rolling his eyes as Tooru tries to blabber a response. Almost like a fish out of water.

“What is that even supposed to mean?!” Tooru whines, hands cradling his face while he leans his elbows on the table.

He knows what that means. It means he’s trying to close off a part of his feelings by forcing himself to focus on why it was wrong instead of why it was right.

Hajime tsk’s despite a small smile growing. “You’re being how you were in high school. How old are you right now? 25? And you’re still a dumbass.”

“I’m-I... I am not, I’m just confused!”

“What’s there to be confused about? You are exclusive with her, right? Are you wrapping it up?”

Tooru blinks. “No.. I mean no. I mean—,” he dramatically lets out an exasperated sigh, groaning into his hands with fingers spread apart to look at Hajime. “I haven’t been sleeping with anyone else and I don’t think she has either, but I haven’t been... you know, wearing a condom... you know... we both, uh, you know we get regularly tested and uh...—,”

Hajime blinks back before he barks out in laughter, almost to the point he’s spewing out beer from his nostrils.” Shut up, already. You’re whipped! Look at that, you’re blushing!”

Tooru ignores his comment and averts his gaze by looking around the restaurant. “I don’t know what to do.”

He doesn’t. He doesn’t know what to do. The right thing to do is to accept that it was only supposed to be a casual agreement of sex and private times spent together. It seems like it’s easier each day to conclude that he doesn’t want to do the right thing and that irritates him. It bothers him that he enjoys your company more than he should, that he can’t get enough of you. It irritates him that you didn’t jump ship when he opened up to you, granted you were his agent at the time. It just pissed him off that you blatantly rejected the idea of a relationship with him but gave mixed signals of lingering gazes that he didn’t miss.

“How about be a grown adult and own it?” Hajime watches the food being placed in front of them, eagerly grabbing his chopsticks as he inhales the scent of the food with a pleased noise.

“Own it?”

Hajime rolls his eyes again. Tooru’s tendency to play dumb still concerns him, to this day and even from thousands of miles away. “Just date her, what are you 12? Dumbass.”

Tooru blinks, twice. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

Biting back an insult, Hajime exhales a deep breath through his nostrils and ignores the question. “You still on that plan from your nutritionist?” 

“Cheat day.” Tooru responds, already knowing where the conversation is going.

Both of them slyly grin at each other. “Itadakimasu!”

A sense of peace instills in him. All he needed was affirmation for it to be okay. That his best-friend would back him and that what he was feeling was okay. It’s okay to feel what he feels. It’s okay to pursue it. It’s okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woaaah. This was a long one. The calm before the storm x2. look at A-A-Ron coming in for the save even though he’s a slick wanker, lol.
> 
> Soundtrack: Feels by Kehlani - It took a lot of hard shit just to learn how not to break down and stop, baby; No matter what I seen in the past I won't let it impact how we grow now, baby; I can't let it slip away or drift away; Can't go to waste.


	9. Step 7: Admit It

Off season meant it was one more season closer to the Olympics, which meant it’s been about two years since Tooru first stepped foot into your office with a devilish smirk. A man that only wanted to conquer the world in volleyball with the help of a sports agent who was known all throughout the Americas as the first woman agent to sign multi-million dollar deals. It marked the timestamp of when he first laid eyes on you and automatically knew that you were who he wanted. You were the one he wanted. He just didn’t expect it to form into you being the one he needed.

One more season closer to the Olympics meant getting Tooru ready for it. Whether that be regular routine checks with the sports medicine doctor, putting him on a stricter routine with the nutritionist, making sure he was at the gym when he needed to be, and watching Aaron cozy up with the man, booking him better deals than you ever could. It only made your envy worse when Aaron gifted him a new home in San Juan just because. Aaron’s excuse is that only the best of the best would suffice for his clients. The funny thing was that he sold your investment property to buy it, just to add the cherry on top. Oh, how the tables have turned.

The biggest gag was watching Tooru on Fox Sports Argentina with Aaron and how they would laugh about one of the more iconic games Tooru played in against Brazil. Tooru’s a natural and reiterating it a million times can’t even substantiate how great he is in this environment. His Spanish is impeccable and no one would have ever guessed that he’s an implant from Japan. They talked about his naturalization in Argentina, briefly discussed the process, and the legalities of why he did it. He mentioned that Japan didn’t participate in dual citizenship and since Argentina was where he resided majority of the time, it would only make sense to become naturalized there. Of course, they brought you up and with a well-rehearsed role-play Aaron forced him to do prior to the interview, he did amazing in that too.

“My ex and I actually broke up before I left to Argentina after high school. I thought that we could have remained friends which is why I kept in contact with her. I guess keeping my relationship low-key was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

The interviewer ate that like candy, proceeding to ask about his relationship with you and if it was serious. How a sports interview turns into a personal one beats you and as Aaron leaves the chair to let Tooru handle it, the two of them clasp each other’s hand to ‘dap each other up’ as others would call it, wide smiles on their face that showed nothing but respect.

Maybe it was hot on the news set, or you were going through a hot flash from reaching the prime age of being a quarter of a century old. You were toying with the collar of your shirt, trying to indiscreetly fan yourself. Sweat starts to form at the nape of your neck when Tooru’s gaze finds you—leaning against the wall—and both of you hold each other’s gaze for a moment. A spark some would say it was. Or maybe he just looked so damn attractive in an athletic zip-up thermal that hugged his biceps and accentuated every muscle on his body. You realize you’re on the verge of salivating and place your finger to your lips, swiping your lower lip with the pad of your finger tip, still staring at him like he was a sinful, and delectable meal and you’re sure you can see his pupils dilate from lust for a moment, before his head turns back towards the interviewer and you can finally breathe again.

“You look as if you’re about to have a stroke. Are you feeling ill?” The annoying accent again and you scowl at the man beside you.

“Shut up.” You mumble, missing Aaron’s smirk when you focus back onto the interview.

Despite a rehearsed response ready, Tooru’s smile is genuine and you can’t help to feel your heart skip a beat from what he says. There’s a touch of honesty that you know isn’t a facade.

“I didn’t go in expecting anything out of her other than impeccable management. I chose her as my agent because I was impressed with her work. It just so happened that I ended up falling for her. I take full responsibility for pursuing her, but I don’t regret it in the slightest.” He finds you again and beams.

He went completely off script. What he was supposed to say is, _we tried to keep it low-key since it’s taboo for a client to date their agent. Unfortunately, the way we handled it wasn’t ideal and we apologize._ Regardless of him swaying from both of your advices to just appeal to the public, his words were much more charming and authentic. It made you feel like a giddy teenager who just had her high school crush confess to her. But, this was not a shy teenager being confessed to by a popular jock. This was Oikawa Tooru publicizing his feelings for you to the world.

The reality is that you are not a shy, giddy teenager. The reality is that your feelings were what caused you to lose everything remotely tied to you. And even though your heart is swelling from his honesty and his words, your mind is screaming at you to shut it down, now. Because this can’t happen. You can’t let this happen. It’d be too easy to reciprocate his feelings, too easy to fall into this fantasy world with him where everything was sunshine and rainbows. So, you do something you haven’t done in a long time. You walk away from the situation.

It just so happens, his new agent did a wonderful job in keeping him fully booked and occupied. Mornings, Tooru’s in the gym with his team or playing practice matches before he would go to photo shoots or participate in advertisements for the Olympics which meant you didn’t have to see him and address the elephant in the room.

Avoiding wasn’t your forte, you would usually tackle a problem head on just to get it over with. Running wasn’t your forte, either.You hated cardio and metaphorically, you’d rather eat whatever situation was in front of you before looking like a coward. So, why were you running? Maybe because your heart was in a complete war with your mind.

When you actually thought about your previous actions, you were appalled with yourself. Plentiful amount of secret rendezvous in public outings because you let your lust get the better of you. The crash and burn of your career because you couldn’t keep yourself composed around him. Your heart was getting tired of hearing _career_ and _work,_ but that was all you had to you and just you. The only thing you fought tooth and nail for and the fact he made it seem so simple, to just give in to him and love him was infuriating.

And it irritates you that out of a thousand reasons why you shouldn’t be with him, you still lean towards the other million reasons of why you want to be with him. Oikawa Tooru, you didn’t care much for. He was a pretty face with an annoying arrogance that covered his facade of insecurities. Tooru on the other hand, your heart soared for. He was the man that made you feel at ease, that could still your worries with a simple touch and that’s what’s frustrating.

When Oikawa becomes just Tooru with his philosophical questions that start to mean more than what they normally would and his scientific inquiries about things that sheds him into a complex person instead of a volleyball athlete, you’re at a loss for words.

_“What?” You blink, swiveling your chair to face him._

_“Has your brother ever been to Area 51?” Tooru leans closer to your face, searching for a lie. “He’s in the military, right?”_

_“Oh my God.” You groan shaking your head. “It doesn’t work like that!”_

When Oikawa becomes just Tooru who finds out about your family with nothing but interest, you realize he cares.

_“So your mom was stationed in Okinawa and that’s why you guys lived in Japan? That makes sense on your dad doing business out in Osaka, then.”_

_You nod._

_Tooru grins slyly. “You’re such a military brat.No wonder why you have commitment issues.”_

_You roll your eyes, kicking him under the table as he abruptly slides his chair back to dodge, laughing when he smiles apologetically to the other people in the restaurant._

When Oikawa becomes just Tooru who watches as a uniformed American soldier shows up at your front door to tell you your mother died on a deployment and they can’t find her body, you finally show him a weakness.

_You slam the door shut, sliding your back down the wall until you’re sitting on the ground before you burst into tears and clenching the area where your heart is. “It hurts, it hurts.” You sob trying to catch your breath as you start to dry-heave. “I-I can’t. It hurts so much.” You wail into Tooru’s chest as he holds you flush against his chest, tightening his hold on you as your body trembles._

When Oikawa becomes just Tooru who sees your world come crashing down on that balcony in Sendai, you realize it then.

_You stare up at him, so vulnerable and broken as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face._

_“I won’t let you fail. I’ve got you.”_

You love him.

The biggest lesson in humility was when your father found out and demanded that he was going to sue your firm and Haru and as much as you wanted to let him to take the easy way out, you promised that you would handle it and you did not handle it in the slightest, which only made your father more angry. Could you blame him? He paved the path for you to follow and you strayed from it to do what your heart wanted you to do and then, you failed as expected. With a mom who was some high-ranking military officer, a dad who’s a damn good lawyer, a brother who’s well-accomplished in the military, and then you. You used to be great, now you were just washed out and when your brother found out and FaceTimed you from Dijbouti, cackling about how you couldn’t keep it in your pants, that was icing on the cake. _Just leave him alone, sis. Let dad handle it because you’re fucked and you can just get a job in dad’s firm._

Your issue wasn’t primarily that you were ousted as a home-wrecker or violating the rules of contractual interference. It was that at the end of the day, you are a woman and that no matter how hard you work, you will be thrown off the totem-pole from any mistake because you are a woman. This world wasn’t built for women and that was the sorry truth you’ve come to terms with. Which is why it was such a bitter pill to swallow when two women—Haru and your assistant—went out of their way to publicize your relationship with your client, just to ruin you. Weren’t women supposed to stick together? Build each other up? Be forces of nature when trailblazing a path into a male-dominated workforce?

Maybe you should just throw in the towel. Previous conversations with Tooru about what you would do next really had you questioning your reasoning on being a sports agent. You did it primarily for the love of sports, until it became more about fast money and feeling like you were on top of the world. Did you enjoy the work hours and having to be on call 24/7 whilst also attending games that would become all-day events? Not really, a personal life was basically non-existent. You had countless of opportunities to date, but your father’s words were always engrained in your head. _Be somebody before you need somebody._ And then in comes Oikawa Tooru, who made you completely question your ideals of what you wanted. And it makes you angry, that a man can singlehandedly come in and make you question everything you’ve worked for, just like that.

For Tooru, maybe it was always about what he needed and not what he wanted. He lived a false persona for so long, his mind always on the desire and the want to be the best in volleyball. When he left for Argentina, he was nearing nineteen, ending his relationship with the first person he ever truly loved. He sacrificed what he knew to venture into a world he was a foreigner in. It was great the first few years, he did what he loved, met wonderful people and lived his early twenties doing what any young adult would, and that was to live. When he met you, you questioned his character, continued to ask him why he wanted to be the best and he didn’t have an answer except that was all he ever knew. He hated feeling weak and not good enough and the fact you laid his problematic reasoning on the table for him to see it right in front of him was scary. He didn’t understand at first until you mentioned that if the only reason he was playing volleyball was to just be better than everyone, then he was better off quitting. You said that all of your clients play the game because of their love and their ties to it, that they understand they may not be the best, but they’re going to continue working hard to be able to play and to make a career out of doing what they love. It opened his eyes.

When you change from an agent to just you with your slip-ups in formalities and your change of heart with him, he’s at a loss for words.

_“Tooru, can you shut up?”_

_Tooru stops his rambling and blinks._

_You blink back and shake your head, lowering your head to scroll through your iPad. “Sorry, Oikawa.”_

_“No. No, I like Tooru.” You don’t respond but he doesn’t miss the small smile on your face._

When you find him punching his locker from losing a particular game and console him, he trusts you.

_Tooru’s knuckles are a bright red as he continues to punch his locker before he’s had enough and leans his head against the metal, exhaling through his nose._

_“You’ll do better the next game.”_

_“You don’t know that.” He responds, narrowing his eyes at your blatant attempt to ease his loss._

_You step closer to him and sit on the bench, looking through your calendar on your phone. “I do. Because you’re not going to stop working your ass off until we get you into the Olympics. Got it?”_

_He nods numbly. “Y-Yes ma’am.”_

When he teaches you how to play beach volleyball and you end up face-planting into the sand before you burst into a fit of laughter, he sees you for you.

_“Shit!” You trip forward, face falling into the sand as the ball you tried to reach lands right next to you._

_Tooru’s eyes widen before he hears you start laughing and breaks out into his own fit of laughter, jogging over to you make sure you’re okay. He helps you up off of the sand, still shaking hysterically as you both howl in laughter from your failed attempt to returning the ball to his side._

When he tells you about his past and his struggles of inferiority and you only listen to him without giving him unsolicited advice, he appreciates you.

_“...and that’s why I hate feeling not good enough.” Tooru sighs nursing the drink in his hand. It’s like a weight was lifted of his shoulder from confiding in you. His reason on why he overworked himself again and landed up in his doctor’s office to take care of his injured knee. He glances over at you because you haven’t said anything yet, and he wasn’t sure if you were on your phone while he vented or if you were just busy occupying yourself with something else. He pauses when he notices you staring intently at him, your attention all on him and you give a slight nod to show that you were listening. He smiles. “Thank you for not saying anything.”_

_“I figured you didn’t need a therapist, you just wanted someone to listen.” You smile back._

When he forces himself to go clubbing with his team after he finds out his father was in the hospital and he can’t leave to Japan, he’s drunk out of his mind at your front door and unsure why he’s crying. That’s when he realizes.

_Tooru’s head was throbbing as he retched into your guest toilet, tears falling from throwing up and the ache in his heart. He felt so weak and so vulnerable, but he couldn’t find himself to care in that moment because all he wanted was you. When his stomach is empty of all contents, he weakly lifts himself from the ground, cleaning up after himself and pads over to where your bedroom, trying to come up with an apology for interrupting you in the wee hours of the morning. He stops short when you peek your head out of your adjoining bathroom._

_“Come shower, your toothbrush is still here.”_

_Tooru stumbles into your bathroom and brushes his teeth, eyes downcast the entire time, even when he’s swishing with mouthwash. He finally enters the shower behind you and wraps his arms around you, his head falling to the crook of your neck. He feels you turn to face him, your arms wrapping around his back when he finally feels a sensory overload and starts to cry into your neck, whispering how sorry he was for showing up uninvited between each sob. He didn’t expect you to kiss at his collarbone and murmur words of affirmation while you start to shampoo his hair. A broken smile shows when you stand on your tip-toes to massage the shampoo into his tresses and he obediently dips his head lower, closing his eyes to get lost in the feeling of you rubbing into his head._

He loves you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Thoughts by Tory Lanez — These just ain't words; I feel a spark; It's either that or I'm just caught up in my head; I can't help it; All the ways you did your thing, that made me selfish; These just ain't words, I'm addicted


	10. Step 7: Admit It Pt. 2

Tooru, who is much older than he was back in his days of needing constant attention and affirmation, understands that grown adults are busy. However, it floors him that you’ve blatantly been ignoring him if it wasn’t anything work-related. The one thing Tooru’s figured out about you is that you have these moments where you’ll disappear off the face of the earth and then reappear rejuvenated and ready to conquer, so, he just figures this is another one of your stunts. He may not necessarily like it, but he’s not in the predicament to mention anything about it. Especially if you’re not to keen on addressing him laying out his feelings for you in public either.

The one time he does end up being at the right place and the right time with you, he’s trying to compute how to get you to stay without the risk of you running off with an excuse. Which brings him to an ordeal of remembering how he can appease you. Everyone has their own love languages. Some prefer to be told constantly that they’re loved while others find love in time spent together. Others want to be gifted while others find comfort in acts of services. For you, Tooru figured your own love language with ease. He opted on testing out all of his options with you sporadically over the course of the relationship between you two before coming up with what made you sparkle with joy and possibly even love.

**Acts of Service**

_Finally returning from your flight, you were scrolling through your phone, on the elevator to your apartment, while Aaron was yelling at you on speaker because you walked out on a deal with a Rugby client. Your whole body was aching from the lack of no sleep for the past few days, mind completely blank. Beyond exhausted because of events and back-to-back meetings, the only thing you wanted to do was take a long bath and just go to sleep. Tooru, insistent on always seeing you whenever you returned opted on meeting you back at your apartment in Buenos Aires, briefly mentioning that he was already in the area because his team wanted to go clubbing in the city._

_“Can you stop yelling? I swear to God, you’re so fucking annoying! It’s no wonder you can’t find a girlfriend, you piece of sh—,” You stop short when you see Tooru staring at you from your kitchen looking like a deer in headlights. “Don’t call me back when I hang up.”_

_“Don’t hang up on me, you shit eating bloody bastar-!” You end the call before Aaron can finish, biting your lip and force a smile, despite your phone constantly ringing._

_“I thought you’d be asleep by now.” You throw your phone on the couch, cautiously approaching to kitchen. “Did you eat already?”_

_Tooru beams and strides over to you to wrap his arm around your shoulders that causes you stiffen from the ache. He pulls you towards the stairs and places his hands on your shoulders, dipping his head with a loving smile. “Yes. I took care of everything already, you don’t need to worry about cleaning. There’s leftovers for you in the fridge. The bath is running for you, just take your time.”_

_The light that shone in your eyes was enough for him to fall all over again, especially the way you started grinning and jumping up and down like an overjoyed child, years of stress waning off your shoulders like the sun rising above an ocean, wrapping your arms around his neck as you profusely thanked him with open-mouthed kisses._

**Gifts**

_Tooru remembers you staring at a particular bag in the Hermès store, contemplating on whether or not to purchase that or some sandals for the warmer season. He was accompanying you on his free-time, mentioning that he liked shopping with you and you’re sure he was lying because the last time you two went, both of his arms were full of shopping bags and he was whining about how his hands weren’t meant to be someone’s bag handler. Go figure._

_He was busy taking photos with some fans that followed him into the store, much to the sale’s associates displeasure which meant you had time to browse and peruse before he started pouting about how he doesn’t understand the appeal of bags that all look the same. You opted to just purchase the sandals and leave with a heavy ache in your chest as you parted ways with the Birkin, much to his pleasure since he wouldn’t have to carry a large shopping bag all around town._

_One particular morning, you were drinking a cup of coffee and looking out your window into the city in your living room when you hear a knock on your door. Walking to the door with an apprehensive look, the delivery carrier made you sign off on a packagebefore you hauled it into your home. Opening the package, your eyes widened at the large orange box with the evident Hermès logo. Inside was the bag you were looking at and a note from Tooru._

_‘Whatever you want you’ll get, princess.’_

_Tooru was a happy man when you showed up at his practice, convincing his coach that it was strictly business-related—not that they believed it if you were the one showing up—and proceeded to follow you into the locker room. He was a happier man when you dropped to your knees in front of him, a look of adoration and lust in your eyes as you sucked him off. Which concluded he should buy you gifts more often, especially if it meant that you would surprise him with your own little gifts._

**Quality Time**

_It was one of his off days where he had an empty schedule, free to do whatever and he suggested you come visit him in San Juan, making you promise that you wouldn’t mention anything about work._

_Your head rests on his chest as he traces his fingers on your arm, watching some movie in his living room. You feel him shift slightly under you, situating himself on the couch and kisses the crown of your head, his fingers still tracing figure eights on your arm absentmindedly. There’s a moment of peace and tranquility without any words needing to be spoken. You can smell the subtle scent of his cologne that mixes with the candle burning on the coffee table, the feeling of his heart beating like a metronome against your ear, and the constant grazes on your skin makes your eyes grow heavy._

_It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep on him and that’s when he realized maybe you needed the rest day more than him. He couldn’t will himself to take you to the bedroom to lay down as he watched you sleep, just concluding over and over again how beautiful you were when you didn’t have a million things on your mind. It made him realize that you shouldn’t have to do it alone, he would gladly take the weight off your shoulders if it meant he could have more of these moments with you._

**Physical Touch**

_He grabs your hair, bunching it into his hand as he pulls your head back, subsequently making your back arch into a perfect ‘u’ shape. He’s grunting with each thrust, gaze falling onto your ass that’s jiggling every-time he bottoms out inside of you. Your moans are getting louder when he hits your g-spot, deep strokes that are making the headboard bang against the wall as he rocks into you. “Look at me, princess.”_

_You look behind you, eyes hazy as you force yourself to keep looking at him, moaning his name when he hits your g-spot again and again. Your eyes want to flutter shut, but you don’t want to miss the view of his lips parted, or the flush in his cheeks, and he won’t let you either because if you do close your eyes, he’ll yank your head back and force you to look at him. It only makes it all the more riveting that his cock is driving into you, reaching the spot that makes your eyes roll back._

_“You’re so tight~” He coos, that arrogant smirk back on his face as he lets go of your hair and grabs your hips, rutting into you at another angle as your upper body falls flush into the bed. “Stay just like that... good girl.”_

_You don’t have time to respond, gasping when his grip on your hips tighten, his cock stroking in and out of you, deeper and quicker. You’re a moaning mess, hands clenching the sheets as he continues to fuck you senseless._

**Words of Affirmation**

_The two of you were in a store, you trying to find a dress because everyone knows not to wear the same dress twice to a charity event. You step out of the changing room, giving a twirl to Tooru who’s sitting on the couch. “Yes? No?”_

_Tooru purses his lips, scanning your figure. “You’re beautiful. You’d look better out of it.”_

_Rolling your eyes, you go back into the changing room and re-emerge in another dress. You see his eyes light up in appreciation and do another twirl._

_“Better, it’s kind of sheer though. No?”_

_“Okay, one more.” You promise, changing into the other dress and step out with a grin. Sauntering over to him as if you were on a runway and stopping in front of him, watching his gaze darken as you bend down to meet him halfway for a kiss._

_His head is tilted up when you pull away and he purposely licks his lips. “Gorgeous. You’ll put everyone there to shame.”_

_You beam triumphantly and turn to walk away when you yelp, shooting a glare his way as you make a show of rubbing your ass. Tooru smirks before he settles back into the couch. He liked you in ball gowns. There’s something so regal about how you carry yourself in one. Something so primal that awakens in him when he realizes that you’re going to be on his arm and no one else’s. And if you want to try on a hundred dresses, asking for his opinion on each one, he’ll gladly give you his input. As long as you don’t do go asking for another man’s advice and continue to show up at events with only him._

_“Tooru!”_

_He blinks, setting the glass of alcohol down on the coaster. “Darling?”_

_“I need some help getting this dress off. Come here.~”_

_Tooru practically jumped out of his seat, zooming over to the dressing room with a grin._

It didn’t take him long to learn it, he enjoyed every time spent with you. He also prided himself in being fluent in your love language, knowing exactly how to comfort you when you needed it the most. So, when you suddenly became closed off out of the blue, he’s confused. He’s tried to send you gifts, compliment you, touch you, do things for you, and the most he got out of you was a quick fuck before you told him you needed to fly out to the States. He knew what that meant, you were back in the game, which also surprised him since you and Aaron have been hush-hush on your acquisition of your old clients. The only thing Aaron told him was that you had friends in high places and someone in the inner circle—the woman he met at the yacht party—did you a solid.Of course, he congratulated you—despite his apprehension in how inner circles worked in giving favors and owing favors—, telling you how proud he was of you and that he was so glad that you were starting to get your footing back into the world you so rightfully deserve to be in. Your smile was genuine and your kiss was as well, but he noticed the conflict in your eyes when he said that you two needed to talk when you got back.

The next time he sees you, you and Aaron are at Tooru’s home, showing up in the middle of the morning and it’s a good thing Tooru’s a morning person because as soon as he returned home from his run, he almost screamed at the two of you in his hosting space, helping yourselves to his bar. _Who even drinks at seven in the morning?_ He asks you two, almost fainting when Aaron accidentally drops a bottle of liquor onto the ground.

Tooru’s new home was an exquisite bachelor-pad. With floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Lujan River, a pool in the back yard, and a custom-made volleyball court, it’s evident no expense was spared. And Tooru, being from humble beginnings was running around like a chicken with its head cut off when Aaron accidentally—again—knocks over a couple of things on his shelf. “Stop, just stop!”

“Blimey! Sorry, mate!”

After cleaning up the mess and finally getting his agent to wean off the liquor, the two of you were sitting on a sectional, listening to Aaron’s game plan for Tooru. How he can speak with sense despite him being utterly wrecked is beyond Tooru’s comprehension. Quite frankly, he wasn’t even sure how the Brit could even stand, but that’s besides the point. You, on the other hand, when did you ever drink before noon?

Because you were getting eaten alive by anticipation. It doesn’t help that you’ve been avoiding Tooru like the plague and then your not so humble and honest way of acquiring your past clients only made you look hypocritical at best. Preaching like the gospel to Tooru to be honest, upfront and open, meanwhile you’re spitting out trade secrets like sunflower seeds. Ironic. Your reasoning... what do they call it? An eye for an eye. You give the owner of the Lakers trade secrets from your previous firm in return for her making calls.Aaron calls it business, you call it fraud.

Tooru glances at you and quickly averts his gaze when he sees a vein protruding from your neck. Your poor jaw, you were going to have to set up a dentist appointment later.

Whatever they were talking about, you only got the end of it when you see Aaron abruptly clap his hands and raise from his seat.

“Keep up the good work, take care of your body. I’ll see you soon when I get back from London.” Aaron grins, waving before he leaves the house, already on a call with the Rugby client you acquired for him.

As soon as the door closed, you tilt your head back to down the entire wine in a couple gulps before placing it on a coaster.

At this point, Tooru’s bracing himself for whatever’s to come. He makes sure to turn fully to you, watching the movement of your throat as you swallow and how your eyes are staring at the chandelier above before they travel to look at the tray ceiling. There’s nowhere for you to run anymore and he’s worried that you might shut his feelings down. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, it’d just be disheartening at best.

Your head turns to him. Almost like you were chewing on glass, the words you utter out seem forced and painful. “Let’s talk.”

Tooru eases himself off of the couch and glances back at you, giving you a once-over. “Seems like you need to relieve some stress.”

“Do you have Anejo?”

Tooru chews the inside of his cheek thinking as he walks over to the built-in bar area, perusing through through his shelves before he opens the fridge. “Right here. Chilled, right?”

You affirm with a nod when he looks over your way. Of course he would know your drink of choice.

Tooru pours the drink in a glass before he hands it to you, giving you a fleeting smile before he sits down on the couch across from you.

“You went off script.”

“And that’s why you ran off?”

“I didn’t run off,” you counter before falling back into your seat. “... I walked off.”

Alright, that’s it. Maybe Tooru is frustrated or maybe he’s just tired of dancing around the real conversation like you two were grade-school children.

“You know, this gets frustrating after a while. Some days you act like you’re completely infatuated with me and then others you’re as cold as ice. You two tell me to be honest and open and then I do just that and it’s not good enough.” Tooru rambles, finally downing his drink in front of him.

You blink. “That’s not it at all—,”

“I keep putting myself out there for you and you keep shutting me out and don’t say that it’s because of your career. We both know that’s not it.”

You’re at a loss for words. “I...I don’t know.”

He furrows his brows. “You don’t know?”

You don’t know. You really don’t.

“This is what I mean.” Tooru scoffs and shakes his head. “I get it, but don’t string me along. I’m not your toy to play with. It seems like that’s all agents do is see us as their chess piece in the grand scheme of things.”

“Wait.” You call as he starts to stand up and that’s when you see him snap.

“First, you want me to keep it low key. So, I do. Then, you want me to confirm the relationship to save yourself. So, I do. You used me, darling.” Tooru shakes his head and chuckles to himself. “I don’t like my emotions getting played with. Once the Olympics are done with, you’re free to do whatever you want.”

“I gave trade secrets to get my clients back.” You blurted out, watching him place his empty glass into the sink.

He has both of his hands splayed on the counter, head bowed for a moment before he shakes his head again and looks back over at you. “You did _what_?”

“Yup.” You nod, more to yourself than him. “Ironic.. I know. I tell you to be honest and true for the sake of your car—“

“That’s a federal crime!” He shouts which causes you to flinch, you miss the amusement in his irises when you jerk out of instinct from his change in tone.

Another reminder that you two are from different worlds. Tooru, self-made athlete, from humble beginnings in Sendai, to you, a military brat who was born into a world of rich people saving ass because they had too much money and clout. 

“When I agreed to sign you, I only wanted to make money off of it.” Suddenly, it seems like his gorgeous brown hues are boring holes into you.

Tooru raises a brow, unsure of where you’re going with this. He steels his heart for the worst.

“I had a one-track mind to prove to my dad that I didn’t need him. And then I met you.” You pause because he’s still staring at you and suddenly you feel like you’re in an interrogation room and the pressure was starting to eat at you. Do you want to continue talking? Not really. But, he deserved that. 

Tooru watches you from the island counter, tongue jutting into his cheek for a moment.

“We aren’t the same and that’s the truth.” You finalize, taking a deep breath. “You’re too good for me.”

That’s funny. He lowers his head once more, exhaling through his nose. “What are you going to do? Did you sign a non-disclosure?”

“The firm isn’t so clean themselves. You should know that.”

Tooru scoffs, shaking his head before he starts to smile and chuckle? He’s laughing. He’s actually laughing. Like howling in laughter. The thing is Tooru knew your love language was more than the five spoken ones. Yours was more complex. You wanted someone who could immerse themself into your world and own it. Rule it. 

“You think I don’t know the illegal things you sports agents do? Aaron lied to Natsu—a student athlete—and isn’t that against some USC code or something? And then..” Tooru covers his mouth, almost giggling. “You think I’m some dumb pro-athlete who doesn’t do research?” 

Your mouth drops. He’s cracking up, in hysterics.

“I’ve been in your world for awhile now, _darling_.” He clears his throat, trying to contain his laughter. “I see how dirty you all get. I just find it kind of disheartening you think I’m ignorant to your under the table dealings.”

“W-what?”

“That rookie player of yours?” Tooru laughs again. “The only reason he got first pick in the draft was because you and Jeanie Greene made a deal during your first year in agency. You made a rookie’s dream come true and _the new agent on the block_ becomes the first woman to make a multi-million dollar deal _and_ get him picked in the first round.”

Your mouth is still gaped open while he continues to chuckle while wiping tears from his eyes.

Tooru smirks and shrugs. “I picked you because I knew you were going to do whatever it takes. Right?”

“Uh... right.”

“You didn’t need me to accompany you to those events. You already had the contract ready to go, but you prolonged it... because?” Tooru asks, rounding the counter to walk over to you. Suddenly, he seems so much taller and more intimidating. He sees right through you.

You’re stuck in the spot you’re standing at, mind coming to a blank once again. “I had to make sure—,”

Tooru shakes his head, that arrogant smirk donning his face once again. He looked almost feral as he towered over you, like a predator to its prey. “Because you wanted me, too. Then, you started being reckless, so, I rolled with it. And for the first time, you felt powerless. But, I think you like that.”

You’re at a loss for words, a lump forming in your throat that seems so much harder to swallow.

“Did you really think people wouldn’t find out about us? I already knew it would blow up.”

“You just rolled with it.” You repeat while realization hits you. He always knew. Which is why he prepared for the publication of everything before hand. “D-did you know about Aaron?”

“No, I didn’t know he had the video. When I found out.. I reached out to him. I told you I would take care of it, didn’t I?” His tone is saccharine sweet, a finger lifting your chin up to face him head-on as he tilts his head with an equally sweet smile.

“You don’t need to do it all by yourself, you know. _You have friends in high places now_.” He mimics your words, smirking at the shock that’s still evident all throughout you. His head lowers until his lips are hovering over yours, the teasing smirk widening at your inability to come up with a response. “Cat got your tongue?”

“How did you get him to agree with it?” You finally ask, your voice is wavering from a myriad of emotions.

“He gets to add another Olympic candidate to his clientele, knock you down a notch, and outcast the firm you were with. It’s a win-win for him.” He murmurs, gaze flitting down to your lips momentarily. “You love me, admit it.”

You nod, blinking a couple of times. Were you that oblivious to his antics? You were trying to rack up every past event with him, trying to figure out when he caught on and your mind was still blank. Did he really play you at your own game? 

“Okay, then stop running.” Tooru closes the gap, pulling you into the kiss with a hand that presses against your neck. It’s as if time halted. It’s like a key fitting into a keyhole and the door unlocks. Realization that this is what you both want. Who you both want.

You feel insecure. Scared even. Because what if it doesn’t work out? What if one day you both wake up and don’t want to be with each other anymore? What if you both become so career-driven you both fall apart? Then another part of you tells you to go for it. To take risks like you normally do. Give it all you got. And if it crashes and burn, just pick back up like how you did any other time.

Toffee hues that are sparkling with intrigue from the way you shift underneath him slightly. You’re lost in a pool of brown that looks so warm and flecks of gold in his irises that reminded you of honey, it makes you feel like you’re exactly where you needed to be.

The door is open and he doesn’t waste a moment in going in. Finding solace in the affirmation and drawn to you like you were a beacon of light. Time spent with each other in moments that would never brave the light of day. Moments where both of you wanted to throw in the towel and admit to the feelings that were starting to become ablaze. Until it reached a point it was uncontainable. Pushed to the edge where it wanted to combust from those confines of a private unspoken relationship. And then it exploded. A raging fire that couldn’t be smothered out anymore.

Every feeling that he’s felt with you and everything you felt, is poured into each other. As if you were unionizing yourselves into one. There’s a difference from his past kisses, a difference in the way his hand cups your cheek. The difference in the tilt of his head, the movement of his body, and the atmosphere has all changed. Two equals forming into one.

His hand trails down your skin like he’s tracing a path and even though you two have slept together before on countless occasions, it feels like you’re completely exposed to him as he peels your clothes off. The way he’ll stare at your body as if he’s seeing it in a new light makes you want to cover yourself. How he’ll lower his head back down to your skin just to watch chill bumps rise from anticipation. He notices your labored breaths, gaze flicking back up to you. “Nervous? I haven’t even touched you, yet.”

“Stop being arrogant.” You snap back, despite a smile showing. 

“Relax, I’ve got you.” He murmurs, not breaking eye contact when he closes his mouth over your breast, tongue swirling around your nipple as he gently sucks on it. His hand slides down your chest until it stops, and then you feel his thumb rubbing your clit to elicit a moan from you.

It’s carefully slow, emotions at its peak and mixed with the shivers of pleasure. It’s not the quick sex where he doesn’t have regards to keeping clothes on or the sex that get your blood pumping because he’s fucking you out of his primal instinct. It’s the sex that makes you feel each and every movement, every touch is heightened from awareness, gazes that are darkened and clouded by the fruition of commitment. You’re soaking wet from his ministrations, heart full and mind hazy when he lets go of your nipple with a pop, a trail of his saliva connecting to it before he brushes against your lips again.

Your body is on fire, lust overtaking your senses when his fingers delve past your slit and pump into you. A moan creeps up your throat when he parts your lips with a tongue sliding into your mouth. He’s desirable. That’s a known fact. But, this. This is a side of him you’ve never seen.

He was taking his time with you mapping out everything that made you feel good and zeroing in on it until you were writhing underneath him. And he wouldn’t tease you tonight, no. He was going to give it all to you. However you liked for however long you wanted.

It doesn’t take you long to tell him you want him inside of you, that you’re going to cum from just his hand alone. Tooru obliges to your request, finally naked before he slips his cock into you, a guttural groan escaping when he hilts himself into you, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he steadies himself with an arm wrapped around your waist, backing you against the window pane. He finally opens his eyes again, watching your reaction as he rocks into you. Sometimes slow and deep strokes, sometimes quick and shallow, to see what makes your eyes roll back and what makes your moans turn into a staccato. When he finds the rhythm that you like, he continues that same rhythm, until your moans start to sound like a ballad that he would want to hear for the rest of his life.

What he hears next has his heart soaring, sending his own senses into overdrive as your walls contract against his length, like it was pulling him back into you each time he retracted his cock before obliging to your body’s wishes and thrusting back into you. His breaths are starting to become pants, heartbeat thumping against his chest and in his ears and he’s sure in that moment, he could hear yours, too. Beating at the same time. As one.

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Great King reigns again! 
> 
> Soundtrack - Love Language by Kehlani & Electric by Alina Baraz


	11. Step 8: Live It

You remember your mother always telling you to have control of situations. She engrained in your head for so long that a powerful woman was a monumental one. She wasn’t necessarily the breadwinner in the family, but her clout alone as the first green beret female was enough to cause a pivotal moment in military history and it opened up opportunities for other women to follow into her footsteps. Her biggest lesson was that you shouldn’t ever be with a weak-minded man and if his dreams weren’t as bright as yours, you were better off alone. Maybe it was because she wanted you to be the best person you could be, or maybe it was because when all was said and done and your job of being a trail blazer was over, she wanted you to have someone that you could fall back on.

When you were five years old, you moved from your hometown to Germany for three years. Your father followed her. It was the first time you saw him angry. When you were eight years old, you moved from Germany to Italy for two years, making friends that you would never see again. Your father followed her. It was the first time you saw him cry. When you were ten years old, you moved from Italy to Japan. Your father followed her. It was the first time you heard your father state he wanted a divorce. As a result, he branched his firm into Osaka. When you were thirteen, your mother moved back to the States. It was agreed in the parenting contract that you and your brother would be taken care of by your father. The three of you did not follow her. It was then you realized how much your father changed. From a doting father and husband to a cold and stoic man.

You would never learn until later in life that your father admired your mother and when her dreams got too big, he couldn’t fill in the shoes of supporting her. It wasn’t that he was jealous, it was that he wasn’t fit to watch her take risks that could possibly jeopardize the family. He couldn’t support her while she was on covert operations for months with no contact. He couldn’t be her anchor when she returned home and couldn’t even be present as she relived moments of hearing explosions and live fires feet away from where she slept. He was unable to be the husband he promised to be and it made him bitter. When she needed him the most, he couldn’t be that person that brought her back home.

When you decided to branch off into sports agency, you had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Packing up once again to move to a country you knew nothing about with a language you didn’t know. If there’s one thing your mother taught you, it was to control the situation, so you dived into the culture and language, and you utilized everything you learned as child and cultivated it into who you are today.

The truth is, you didn’t want control. Sure, you followed in your mother’s words to go head-first into a man-dominated career and open the doors for women to follow suit, but once all was said and done and your career was wretched from moments of your own lapse in judgement, you were left with nothing but a vessel of emptiness. Your ambition was set based on a desire to fill a void in your heart that your father was unable to provide, a solid foundation that you could fall back on. You weren’t a domesticated woman by no means, but you did like to think as time passed and you grew older that it wouldn’t be so bad. You already conquered the first step in creating a name for yourself, what was left? After your hand being forced to throw in the towel for sports agency, you were given a lot of time to think. What is it that you really wanted? Lots of therapy and counseling sessions made you realize it was all from a deep-rooted cause. You wanted something you could actually call home.

—

Tooru and you decided to spend a day going on a hike to decompress and also work on your hatred for cardio. While he had no issues running the trail—insisting that no one liked cardio to quell your nerves— he could tell you wanted to throw him off a cliff from your glare, especially when he mentioned it improves your blood pressure and cheekily added a comment that you have high blood pressure. The gag is while you’re panting like a dog, he’s just talking the entire time you two ran the trail. Tooru is enthusing about some documentary your brother had sent him regarding Area 51 and mysterious disappearances, failing to notice you’re almost crying from trying to keep up with him. The man has legs for days and works out twice a day on top of practice, your bikram and spin classes could never.

Technically, neither of you were supposed to actually be running it, in the event he rolled his ankle from loose rocks, but after a not-so-friendly, kind of friendly competition with him more-so bragging he could do this 12 mile hike in his sleep, you made him put his money where his mouth is. This only caused his competitiveness to come out and with an arrogant smirk and a spew of words, _keep up then, pretty girl,_ you two are zooming past other hikers and joggers at seven in the morning. Did you keep up? Yes. Did you feel like your lungs were getting ripped out in the process? Absolutely. Did you regret antagonizing him? Sure do.

“Can you please stop talking?” you ask between gasps, frowning when he does that running in place thing he does while you’re almost dry-heaving. Is it too late to turn back around? Yes.

You regret antagonizing him, but the smirk on his face only makes you want to wipe it off and proceed in pushing him off a cliff. It’s funny because you’re only on mile three and while you look wrecked, he’s in pristine condition with barely a sheen on his forehead.

“Want to listen to music?” He suggests, still jogging in place, taking a quick glance at his watch to make sure his workout didn’t pause.

You can barely nod, pulling out your earbuds from your pocket to put them in your ear. He puts a single one in his ear, keeping the other ear free in the event you needed to say something to him.

“Ready?” He smiles, nodding towards the path. _No_. You were not ready, but you didn’t really have a choice in the matter, especially when it comes to these random bets with him.

This is what you get for dating an athlete, and you’d rather run behind him because his back muscles were prominent in his thermal, and man, if you weren’t sweaty you’d pull him into a hidden area to ride him like a stallion and—

“Let’s go!” He sings, jogging around you in circles on purpose, smirking when you groan in agony. He makes sure to run beside you, inadvertently setting the pace so you didn’t exhaust yourself too soon. You’d thank him if you had the capability to speak. Towards the final mile, Tooru touches your wrist. “Rocky ascent. We can walk the last mile. I’ll stay behind you, I don’t want you to slip.”

You stare up at the incline and grimace to yourself. “Okay, can you let me know if my butt looks good? I’ve been doing Orange Theory.”

He chuckles, glancing around him before he pinches your ass. “Like a peach.”

“Perfect.” You grin, starting the trek up the hill, watching your feet to make sure you didn’t slip on any stray debris or rocks. There’s something about these moments with Tooru that you prefer and it definitely wasn’t because of his happy-go-lucky attitude, but more of the fact he made it comfortable for you while also pushing you when he knew you could. Whether it be picking up the pace or finding a rhythm that wouldn’t have you dying and pushing him off a cliff, you appreciated this side of him. The two of you made it a habit to workout together whenever you could, but in the event schedules conflicted, he ensured to take a day with you to do some type of workout together. Whether it be steep trails or doing a class with you.

When you two finally make it to the end of the trail, you can conclude it’s worth your lungs screaming for air. After you bend over to catch your breath, almost wheezing, you finally take in the view in awe.

Gorgeous blue water with snow still on the mountains in the summer, it’s simply captivating and picturesque. Your first instinct is to turn around and grab his hand so you two can get closer to the water, but you stop short when you see him already staring at you. “What is it?”

Tooru smiles softly and shakes his head. “You’re beautiful.”

It’s only when you notice other hikers turning to look at you and Tooru when you’re pulled out of your trance, furrowing your brows at their excited looks. Did people have to gawk when they see a pro-athlete? Then, you notice people pulling out their phones and recording both of you. You’re confused, still staring at Tooru, but you don’t say anything because he takes a step closer to you, still holding your hand.

“When I first met you, I always knew I wanted you, but I never knew I would need you. Every moment spent with you, I always miss you when we say goodbye,” Tooru starts, pausing to gauge your reaction and that’s when you feel your heart start to quicken its beat again. “I don’t ever want to say goodbye to you anymore.”

Tooru drops to one knee, pulling an emerald-cut diamond ring out of his pocket and holds it towards you. “Will you marry me?”

Your jaw drops, heart pounding against your chest as you stare at him like a deer in headlights. For a moment, you can see concern in his eyes from your lack of a quick response and you can hear the giddy whispers from the other hikers. You’re scared to talk because it’s going to a broken voice, but you extend your left hand out to him, unable to withhold the tremors as you nod your head furiously. Your simple yes comes out broken and shaky, tears starting to prick at the corner or your eyes. As his smile brightens into a beam, you fling your arms around his neck, reaching up to kiss him while the other hikers start to clap and cheer because Oikawa Tooru just proposed to you on top of a mountain, in front of a gorgeous view with an equally gorgeous ring.

“Thank God you said yes, otherwise I’d have to jump off a cliff myself.” He mutters against your lips, eyes crinkling with joy.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” You repeat, crying with joy. “I love you so much.”

Later, you would come to find out that he had planned the engagement in advance, specifically hiring a group of people to take candids from his proposal so he could have them blown up into portraits.It wasn’t his grandeur actions of publicly displaying his love or going out of his way to plan elaborate dates. It was the little things he did, that made you feel so full. Most importantly, you finally felt at home.

—

Announcing the engagement to Tooru’s family was smooth-sailing. His father was particularly thrilled to know that Tooru was settling down with someone who could match his tempo in life and his mother found you to be very endearing. Hajime was present, full of shit-eating grins when Tooru’s sister asks about if he was planning on giving her any nieces and nephews anytime soon. What Tooru wasn’t expecting was to see Haru show up as Hajime’s girlfriend and immediately tried to mitigate the risk by keeping you in the same room with his mother and father. He almost had a heart attack when Haru sought you out to speak with you.

You were primarily good at handling uncomfortable situations, but he wasn’t really sure how you’d react to his long-term lover turned friend showing up in his old home to give congratulations. So, while you follow her outside, Hajime and Tooru are staring from a window cracked open, ready and armed to intervene if needed.

“I’m sorry.” Haru states, fiddling with her fingers as she sits across from you. She was much more at peace than when she last saw Tooru. “For jeopardizing your career over my inability to control my feelings.”

The words you were waiting for. You can feel two sets of eyes on you two and internally roll your eyes. You could play nice. “Thank you for apologizing. That means a lot.”

She smiles. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

Your only response was a raised brow, lifting your elbow to place it on the back of your chair. Apprehensive and cautious. Cautious because you didn’t know a thing about her except she’s now with Tooru’s best friend.

“At the end of the day, I just want him to be happy. I’ve known him at his worst, when he didn’t know how to handle his emotions and tried to mask it all the time. I never meant to discredit your relationship with him and I’m sorry for how I handled it.”

“Do you still love him?”

“I’m not in love with him if that’s what you’re asking.” Haru responds quickly. “I was the volleyball manager for Seijoh, we were all childhood friends. I was a fifteen year old in love with the old Tooru, but the new him... he’s so much more different—not in a bad way—but, not in the way I knew him.”

Your brows pinch in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“He’s different now, more confident and true to himself. Publicly open with his flaws, he has healthy coping mechanisms. He’s... thriving. I’ve never seen him so alive. It’s all because of you and I’m forever thankful for that. I just want to see him happy, he deserves that. He really does.”

She shifts in her seat. “Look, you don’t have to like me. I respect you and for Tooru to be so candid about his relationship with you, that means a lot. He’s never open about his personal life, so this was big.”

“I don’t not like you, but thank you”

Her eyes widen. She takes a second to actually look at you. Not as a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but as a person. The person that Tooru fell in love with. “T-thank you... for... thanking me.”

You blink a couple times before laughing. “I don’t bite.”

“Sorry, you’re kind of intimidating.” She relaxes, joining you in laughter as you both clink glasses of wine, agreeing to turn over a new leaf.

Tooru grins at Hajime who’s equally as pleased. “That wasn’t so bad, you are a good luck charm. You should come with me to tell her family tonight.”

Hajime raises a brow at Tooru, but shrugs. “Sure, how bad could it be?”

Tooru laughs nervously, refusing to respond as the two of them walk outside to engage in conversation. He knew that any meeting with your father was a disaster and any meeting with your mother’s battle-buddies who devoted themselves as your guardian angels was chaos.

That night, Hajime and Tooru walk into your family home and while Hajime was whistling at the view, Tooru knew that he was walking into a lion’s den. His anticipation and nerves are heightened that Hajime notices as soon as they stop in the dining room where everyone sat in complete silence. Two men that looked nothing like guardian angels and more of linebackers that are a solid two-hundred pounds of muscle staring at him and Hajime. He can hear Hajime mumble, _what the fuck did you bring me into?_ A war zone with no way out, sorry Iwa.

Withholding himself from exhaling a deep breath, Tooru introduces himself and Hajime, ensuring to follow American customs in shaking their hands and your father’s while also adhering to Japanese customs. He takes a seat next to you and greets your brother with a facade of a confident smile.

Conversations forced out of courtesy that your guardian angels made no effort into indulging in, staring daggers at Tooru as he tried to find the right time to break the news. You easily noticed his uneasiness and place a comforting hand on his knee, clearing your throat.

“So, I’m engaged...”

Really? Tooru chokes on his drink. Out of everything you could say or the ways you could’ve brought it up, you chose to just blurt it out as the first thing that came out of your mouth. Like being pushed out of a plane with no warning, the situation escalates to something like free-falling out of a plane with no parachute. Your brother was more than ecstatic and lifted his glass of alcohol that no one cheers’ed to and Hajime occupies his attention to eat the wagyu in front of him because it was no place of his to save Tooru in this affair.

When your father brings up the question of _would your mother be proud of you if she saw you right_ now, he knows those words cut deep. It was like reopening a sewn shut wound that never properly healed.

“How would you know if she would be proud? You hated her!” You shout from across the dinner table, slamming your fist next to your plate.

Tooru’s sitting next to you, mouth closed shut as he watches the scene unfold. Trained killers by the names of Castro and Smith—watching Tooru like a hawk despite you shooting out words at your father over and over again. Uncomfortable isn’t the right word for what Tooru feels, he’s out of his element. Out of his bubble of comfortable and no matter how many times you brought him out of his comfort zone in the past, nothing prepared him for this. Despite the green berets staring at him, he surprisingly felt at ease when your brother gave him an apologetic smile and concluded maybe he was the only sane person out of your family.

He thought it would be a good idea to announce an engagement over a meal and fine alcohol. Apparently stupidkawa did not think it through and Hajime staring at his food, refusing to look up for one second was only an affirmative that it was not a good idea. If Iwa is uncomfortable, bet your bottom dollar that Tooru is terrified. This setting? This was a train wreck and an airplane crashing into the train at the same time. Utter chaos.

“You choose to marry someone who’s job is to play around with a ball.”

Tooru opens his mouth to respond when he feels Hajime kick him. _Don’t._

“Is it so hard for you to believe that I love him or are you upset because I don’t want to be with some white-collared narcissist like you? Mom sure as hell didn’t that’s why she was always gone!”

Your father’s eyes flash, but never once did he raise his voice. The next words become the knife in your heart and Tooru saw it all in your demeanor. “If a white-collared narcissist wasn’t good enough for your mother, what makes you think a boy who plays volleyball would be good enough for you?”

“ _Really_?” Castro asks, glancing at your father before he looks back over at you. For the first time that entire dinner, the Colombian’s demeanor softened. 

“How is she going to commit to someone if she can’t even commit to her own career? It’s bound to fail.”

Your mouth was dropped open, tears etching on the corners of your eyes before you steel your shoulders and excuse yourself from the table.

The typical blonde haired, blue-eyed soldier who Tooru deemed as GI Joe, Smith, places his napkin on the table after wiping his mouth and excuses himself, following after you.

Tooru swallows the lump in his throat. “Excuse me, I don’t think it’s my place to say—,”

“It’s not. You will never be a part of this family.” Your father cuts him off, staring at him with an icy stare.

The one that Tooru has seen you use countless of times before. Traits that were your best and worst assets.He was treading by faith in his abilities to ease the situation and not by sight that your father was out for blood at this point and that’s the God honest truth. But, he loves you and that’s another God honest truth.He also knows this isn’t about him marrying you—even though that was just the cherry on top—it was about the fact that when your mother passed and the only person you needed was unreachable. It was the fact that while you were planning the funeral with the casualty assistance officer, your father was no where to be seen. It was all from a deeper rooted history. The one that he’s heard you briefly mention about your father’s lack of empathy. Every inch of resolve you had was thrown out the window because your own foundation was buried throughout the sands of Yemen. You heavily relied on your success to fill a void of being alone and when everything was stripped away from you, you were left with nothing but a vessel of emptiness.

“When her mother passed,” Tooru pauses when the Castro’s attention flashes to him in warning, “she needed you. I can’t speak on things I don’t know, but I know she needed you and you weren’t there.”

“You don’t understand the history of this family.” Your father responds.

“No, but I understand your daughter is still mourning her mother, and what she needs is a foundation. People who support her and people who will be there for her.” Tooru excuses himself, patting Hajime’s shoulder in a gesture that he promises he’ll be back.

He finds Smith sitting next to you, patting your back. The scene was bizarre enough that in better circumstances, he might have laughed. A man who reminds him of Mad Dog is being a complete teddy bear.

“I’ll give y’all a moment, gotta talk some sense into that dumbass.” Smith mumbles before he walks back into the house.

“It sucks when my mom’s friends are more happy for me than my own dad.”

“They are?” Tooru jokes, smiling when you finally chuckle.

“Sorry that Hajime got brought into this. I owe him drinks.”

Tooru laughs, wrapping his arms around you while you bury your head into his chest. “He’ll be fine. I definitely owe him drinks. I was the one who invited him.”

He can hear you sniffle and pulls away to look at you. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll handle it. Take as long as you need.”

If there’s one thing Tooru has learned from you, it was to always control the situation. From controlling his narrative to controlling the courts he played in. He learned from the best after all, and it was almost like poetic justice to see it as you handing him the torch or the crown, to take control in events you couldn’t. He would lead the way for you if you so wished.

When he walks back into the house, he notices Hajime and your brother are nursing drinks outside, conversing and laughing over something and can immediately check off having to check on him. He stops short from the dining room where the three men in your life are having a heated conversation and rolls his shoulders, preparing to enter the lion’s den once again.

“Your mistake doesn’t mean this guy will make the same one.” Smith seethes. “Just because you couldn’t be there for your wife doesn’t mean he’ll be the same. The least you can do is have some goddamn respect for your daughter.”

Your father is eerily quiet, eyes downcast as he stares at the glass of bourbon in front of him.

“She’s a civilian, she’s not going to die if you let her go.” Castro inputs. "Good thing is the guy didn't run away with his tail between his legs when he found out how fucked this family is."

He finally interjects himself by walking into the room and suddenly, it feels like the audience of three was an audience of hundreds.

“Have a seat,” Castro offers, gesturing to the chair next to him. “A bourbon man or a beer?”

“Bourbon is fine.” Tooru responds, breaking into a small smile when Smith grins from his drink of choice. Did he like bourbon? Not necessarily, but he needed something strong to get him through this.

“I will do everything I can to make sure she’s happy and taken care of. I’ll love her unconditionally.” It’s a good thing you’re worth it, Tooru would have high-tailed out of there with Hajime on his back if you weren’t.

There’s a long period of silence while everyone waits for your father to respond.

“The bourbon, it’s Michter’s. Distilled since 1753.” Your father suddenly speaks, his gaze meeting Tooru’s.

He wasn’t just telling him about the bourbon. He was letting him know he heard him and he respects him. Raising his glass, Tooru smiles as they all do the same. “In Argentina, we say salud.”

Your father nods. “Salud.”

Respect was always earned and not given. Tooru learned that at a young age in life and it’s always made him prideful in his ability to gain respect. He finally settles into his seat as they start to tell him stories about your childhood, laughing and reminiscing times about your mother over a fine glass of bourbon. This particular moment, he feels like he conquered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a wholesome chapter. <3, also if anyone finds the Bachelor reference, kudos to you lol.


	12. Step 8: Live It Pt.2

You’re tossing a stress ball in between your hands with your legs propped up on a desk, watching an ESPN show that focuses on analysts, reporters, and readers. It almost seems like deja vu, that you’re sitting behind a desk doing the same thing you’ve been doing previously. Except now, you’re very much engaged.

The specific segment you’re watching is focused more on candidates for the Olympics and you’re pleased that Tooru was amongst the ones with a definitive presence. Zeroing in on your fiancé’s certain plays that the show was highlighting, you caught the specific words of the analyst that caused your heart to skip a beat… or two.

_Oikawa Tooru, Japan native, official setter to represent Argentina will most likely be playing against his home-country in the semi-finals and the winning team will most likely be playing against Brazil._

You lean back into your chair, tilting your head up to stare at the ceiling. As the commentators continue to highlight his previous games and analysts try to forecast the team’s plays for the next games, you’re reeling in projections. The specific analyst on the segment is usually spot on with predicting how games would progress, which mean Tooru was going to start to feel the pressure whenever he finds out, if he hasn’t already.

—

With the ever-looming event of the Olympics in the upcoming months, Aaron took a trip to watch San Juan play against a team in America with every intent in ensuring that Tooru would be and remain capable to play for Argentina. He also made sure you didn’t go because he didn’t want any distractions for the setter and told you to sit pretty in the office and plan your wedding. Which is actually kind of funny how you ended up with Haru—the self proclaimed wedding planner working alongside your hired one—at your bachelorette party in California. It helps that Tooru is also in California playing volleyball, a win-win for you, and you may or may not have planned it to coordinate.

You were in Napa, vineyard hopping amongst a throng of old college friends and your closest girlfriends that absolutely could not believe you were getting married. Hence why you all were on the fourth vineyard, sloshing around reds and whites and running away from your group of friends down a plantation of grapevines. Why were you running away? Well.

_“I’m just like sooo happy for you, babe!” Your friend tears up, pouting. “Who would have thought our lovie is actually getting married?”_

_“Are you ready for this? Like this is the epitome of a commitment.” Your college friend asks, leaning closer to you while you gulp another glass of wine. You were supposed to be tasting, not downing them like shots._

_Haru looks back and forth from your friends to you. Most especially watching your excessive drinking. Were you unsure? Getting cold feet?_

_“Of course she’s ready! The man treats her like a queen, have you seen the way he looks at her?” Another friend cheers, grinning from both being tipsy and genuine._

_“I mean… yeah, but this is big. No more all-star game parties, no more getting wasted in Vegas and jet setting to Europe the next day.” Your college friend juts in, her gaze hardens when you meet her eye because she doesn’t need to add onto it for everyone else to hear._

_A defense attorney who was also married to her own career. She was by your side the entire time you went into sports agency, your plus one into exclusive events, the one who kept your secrets during the ‘what happens at all-star weekend, stays at all-star weekend’ period in your life. The apprehensive friend when you told her everything about Tooru, from the beginning to the end. The confidante you confided in for legal matters regarding your illicit way back into sports agency, basically your ride or die for life._

_It’s not a secret that your judgement calls have been affected from being with Tooru. It’s more-so just a slap in the face that you can’t have the best of both worlds. Not anymore._

_“Just be happy for her! You’re giving her pre-wedding jitters!”_

_“Well, if she’s having pre-wedding jitters, then she shouldn’t be getting married.”_

_You downed the glass of cabernet and slid out of your chair. “I’m going to the restroom.”_

To say you were overwhelmed is an understatement and as you stumbled outside to walk through the greenery, you weren’t sure if your feelings were all over the place from the mixture of reds and whites or if you really were second-guessing your choices. There wasn’t a doubt in your love for Tooru, but everyone has added the context of your own commitment issues, family included. You’re scared, honestly. Who could blame you? It’s a monumental moment in life, a unifying moment that signifies the for better or worse. You’d be lying if you said you never looked up the statistics on divorce. Hell, you’re getting married in a time where cheating is literally a click or DM away, and yes, you trusted Tooru a hundred percent, but what if it fails? What if the relationship becomes too comfortable, he gets bored? What if your past choices come back to bite you? So many what ifs, it’s starting to make you sick.

You didn’t want to be like your mom and dad where the love dims because you two drift onto two different ends of the spectrum. Tooru is devoted to his career, what if one day, he decides that he can’t balance that and the marriage? What if the relationship stops being fun and the excitement bubbles away?

Feeling sick, you stop within a row of vines and plop to the ground, double fisting your two glasses of wine while you stare at the grapes. What if he didn’t want to marry you anymore because you were unsure? He almost looked like he passed away on the spot during the dinner with your family, what if he realizes that he wants a family more traditional? What if the culture differences in the family affect your relationship? Did Hajime talk some sense into him during his own Bachelor party in Tokyo? Was that why he’s been distant? God, you feel so insecure.

There’s rustling in the bushes and you jump to your feet, stumbling over your wedges and curse when the wines spill. You look trashed and not just from your decision to get wasted at two in the afternoon. If it was one of the employees, you’re hoping they don’t drag you back inside the building.

Tooru’s head peeks around a vine bush, all smiles and clearly amused when he sees the wine stain on your white romper.

Your lower lip starts to quiver as soon as you see him. Your emotions overflowing from everything you thought about. How does he know to just pop up during your lowest moments? Shouldn’t he be in LA?

“Haru called. Said you needed me.” He justifies, gently taking the stem glasses from your hands.

You’re trying to blink away tears, stuck at attention with your hands at your sides as if he were a commanding officer and you just a lowly private. The words bubble from your mouth, garbled together as you spew out all your concerns and fears. Everything in your head is transitioned into slurred words and stutters, with an excessive amount of like to fill in the pauses. Never did his eyes widen as he listened to you, but his brows furrowed from your slurred words. You’re trashed. Mind is wrecked. Words not able to be transposed as eloquently as usual, so what you’re saying starts to sound like a rambling drunk, but it’s all truth and feelings.

Finally having enough, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you flush against his chest and you’re still rambling, still talking, and also crying. Tears leaving distinct lines down your face from the makeup you had on. “Everything you feel is valid, we’ll work on all of that if or when the time comes. I’ve got you.”

A simple sentence that spoke volumes. He wasn’t going to run away. He understands where you’re coming from and he’s promising to work through those issues if they ever come. He’s not giving you those empty promises to placate you, he’s telling you that he’ll be by your side through it all. For better or worse.

“You love me, right?” He rubs your back, lips resting on the crown of your head while you continue to sob into his chest.

“Without a doubt.” You manage to choke out, pulling away to look at him.

Tooru smiles. “That’s all I need to know. We can’t predict what’s going to happen, but as long as we love each other, we’ll be alright and we will work through it, together.”

Your lip trembles again. God, you’re such a wreck and how he manages to put you back together with a reassuring smile and affirmations of his devotion to you, you’ll never understand except that he loves you. He’s in love with you. When you’re at your best with a pressed pantsuit, making calls and doing business. When you’re crying in a vineyard, makeup all messed up, dress dirtied at two in the afternoon. Even when you two get into arguments full of shouting, guns blazing and at your absolute worst. He loves you, but you can tell he knows that it’s not just the wedding jitters eating at you.

—

No matter how many times the word _Olympics_ gets thrown around like it was a normal term used day to day, it never becomes _just_ an event to Tooru. Through the midst of wedding planning and the increase in doctor’s appointments, training, conditioning, and every other thing that his agent could book him for, it only adds to the tension. Not once has he ever had a second to actually sit down and work through his emotions. Whether it was from being a few inches off from an ace serve or pressure from rewatching the specific segment that’s predicting the matches in the summer Olympics, Tooru is feeling the heat and he can’t even get a moment to breathe. Add the stress of a wedding right around the corner and he’s sure he shouldn’t be going through a mid-life crisis of heart burn, yet.

This is something he’s been working for since he started playing volleyball, a goal that he’s put grit into and losing isn’t an option. The time he needs you the most, to talk some sense into him and ease his tensions, you’re not by his side, Aaron is. It just doesn’t feel the same as when you were his agent. His voice of reason, the stabilizing factor in his equation.

“How’s your knee?”

Tooru glances at the joint in question. “Fine.”

He’s on edge and usually if you were here, you’d notice and would know exactly what to say and what to do. But, the agent in front of him wasn’t you and you were not here. Fortunately, Hajime was in the area out of sheer coincidence due to him wanting to visit his old mentor in Irvine and his support at his matches was more than enough to put a lid over his emotions for the time being.

“We got a wedding coming up and the Olympics in a few months, how are you feeling?”

Tooru eases himself off of the bench with a chuckle. “Is it bad I’m more on edge about the Olympics than my own wedding?”

Aaron snorts, patting his back. “Make sure you play your best. People are watching.”

People are always watching and it’s never been more clear when Tooru steps out onto the courts with his team. Each seat filled with more than just fans. He can see suited people in overhead seats that are placing bets on the score and who’ll win. Commentators seated, watching each player with a critical eye. This was the final few of the remaining tournaments and even though his team has already qualified from points alone, losing momentum wasn’t an option. He takes another look and sees Hajime in the stands and beams at him before he begins to warm up for the matches to come.

—

Tooru steps out of the locker room with his duffle bag in tow while he’s texting you about going out for drinks with Hajime when he stops short from seeing a familiar looking person in front of him.

“Hi, remember me?”

He straightens his posture, the grip on his duffle bag tightening by the second as his mind tries to reel in the familiarity of the woman in front of him. His mind is in a frenzy, trying to pull from straws. The last time he slept with someone other than you was from ages ago. Did he meet her at a club? How did she get back to the locker rooms? He doesn’t even remember entertaining fans. But, she didn’t look like a fan in her pantsuit... Pantsuit. Cartier Skeleton on her wrist. _Your_ Cartier Skeleton. 

“It’s okay if you don’t. Rumor is your fiancé sold some trade secrets.”

_Shit_. Tooru keeps his facade of being totally cool, calm, and collected despite sirens blaring in his ear. Fatigue is leeching away at his brain and senses because all he wanted to do was meet you at the hotel and pass out. The last thing he wants to deal with, is this. Was he supposed to act surprised? Deny it? Look mortified? He wasn’t equipped for this confrontation. Another one of the situations where being associated with you has brought him out of his comfort zone. All he could gather is that this is going to be one of those an eye for an eye transactions.

“So, if you don’t want her to get arrested and imprisoned at the altar, I suggest you listen to me.” She pauses for a moment, gauging his reaction. “Your team is going to go to the Olympics and you’re going to make sure that you lose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang, they cannot catch a break lol.


	13. Live It Pt. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smut

“We’ll take our chances.” Tooru smiles easily.

She blinks, tilting her head before recognition replaces her dumbfounded look. “Ah. She’s told you.”

He doesn’t respond, relaxing the grip on his duffle bag. If he can play poised maybe she’ll disappear. He’s been in this world for awhile now and there’s nothing more telling than in how one uses their words. If she wanted to actually do something, she’d do it, just like how she tried to play the upper hand with outing the relationship. It’s a ruse. It has to be. But, for what?

“Okay, let’s up the antics. I have proof you participated in rigging the intercontinental tour.”

_There it is._ Tooru’s facade starts to crack, his lip twitches as his jaw tightens.

—

There’s a lot of things that Tooru generally doesn’t care for, he never valued the substance of a relationship as one normally would. A one-track mind of being the best at the sport he dedicated his whole life to didn’t allow for any time to pursue. The lifestyle he chose had women flock to him without needing to bat an eyelash. Maybe he’s made a mistake in deciding to go toe-to-toe with you, maybe his own side game with you was the result of his carnal desires. He’s in over his head and that’s been clear-cut since he met you in that damned boardroom. Sirens blaring through his ears to pick someone else despite his infatuation with you in your little pant-suit, so short amongst a mob of beefy men that looked like sharks. _Chibi-chan_ , as he would call you from time to time, equally as impressed that you knew his mother tongue. He didn’t expect to be so enamored with you and a part of him wanted to blame it on being tied to the hip with you during the times he wasn’t with his team. Hours spent in a car, laughing over simple conversations, conventions that you attended together making stupid bets against people he vaguely remembered from the yacht party. Excuses he made to accompany you on his off time to parties and dinners, insisting his growing desire for networking would pay off in the long run. 

When he decided to stop thinking logically and throw all his rationality out the window, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure when it crossed the line of professionalism into something more. He could blame his shameless flirting as part of his persona, but when his heart would skip a beat or flutter from your genuine blushes or your responses to his teasing, he couldn’t blame anything but himself. There were so many red flags to stop while he was ahead, to not indulge into you, because it would become a slippery slope, and he can’t even blame you. How could he?

Your persistent attempts in getting him to stop making seductive comments, your distance from him whenever you two were out in public. How could he blame you when your walls came crumbling down?

Love is something he was never good at. As much of a shameless flirt he was, he never put a lot of thought in maintaining relationships. His ex girlfriend in high school who left him because he put volleyball first. Leaving Haru in the airport because he wanted to go play overseas. Sleeping with women who only wanted to because he was handsome and an athlete. Then, to you. Where all his clear-sighted and sensible rules fell to his own deaf ears. At the time when he was looking through sports agents as suggested by his teammates, everything made so much sense, he gets an agent who’ll help propel him into the Olympics through connections and finesse. He also gets to play around with you, potentially fuck you, and then move on with his life. He didn’t expect to fall in love with you in the process, nor did he expect you to be so candid with him, to teach him things he never knew about this world he dove into headfirst.

His teammates would tease him about his interest in you because he made no efforts in quelling his pursuit. Especially the first time you came to watch his match. You stood next to his coach, conversing about something while your attention was dead set on him. You could blame it on ensuring your client was performing at best standards, but he knows it wasn’t just that and a simple wink that makes you stand a little straighter was enough to solidify his presumption that you in were in fact, attracted to him. What he didn’t expect was for you to wink back at him, a chesire grin grew on his face and that specific game created an opening for the intercontinental tour, the opening of a future in participating in the Olympics.

The rumors that swirled around like wildfire from watchful eyes that were set off when he finds you in a club, in a black leather dress with a cuban-link chain around your neck, right above your cleavage and exposed legs that seem to go on forever. The first time he’s seen you in something so exposing, leaving his primal desires to imagination. The second time he’s going in with a mindset of fucking you. He only saw you as rigid and work-driven, never seeing you as someone with depth, until this very night when you’re swaying your hips with a group all dressed like you—to the tens. You had a drink in your hand, sucking through a straw when you turn around, meeting his gaze while you dance against one of your friends. A sly smile grows on your face when you realize he’s been watching you, the first smile you’ve given him with no restraints to it. An invitation.

He hears the woman next to him ask if he wants to get out of the club, his teammates scattered around the vip booth with Argentinian models that were all dressed in an array of tight dresses and clothes, gorgeous features and all too willing to give more than what they can get. But, he wants you.

The one who’s sipping her drink through a straw while she’s swaying her hips sensually to the music, eyes fluttering shut when she gets lost in the bass and the feeling of a buzz in a club that was deemed Argentina’s hottest place to be in the nightlife. A dimly lit club with too many athletes and prolific people, Instagram models, top models, and celebrities from telenovelas.

You’re dangerous, he deems that when your eyes never leave his. When he tunes out the woman next to him and when he finishes his glass of whatever he was drinking before getting up and nodding towards the exit, turning around to disappear down a corridor towards the parking garage attached to the club. He knows you’ll follow, that you’re probably squeezing through the crowd to meet him. He knows you know where he’s parked, what level on the deck he’s walking to, what car he’s driven.

When he turns back around, you’re there, walking towards him with a flush to your cheeks from the mild breezes of the climate. “Are you following me?” He teases, eyes scanning your body slowly before they meet your eyes.

“Was the cue for someone else?” You challenge, grinning when he licks his lips.

He’s dangerous, the only person who can throw your own rationality to the wind when he leans against his Range Rover with a devilish smirk. Never the one to blatantly flaunt his wealth in jewelry, flashy cars or designer clothes, the subtle one who proves time and time again that his biggest flex is all in how he carries himself. It’s captivating, really. A change in your lifestyle full of expensive bottles and competitions on who can dress to the finest things without being gaudy.

His russet hues are closely watching you move until you’re right up against him, glancing down at your sultry smile before he looks back at you with a grin, teeth grazing his bottom lip. “Careful, pretty girl.” He warns.

He’s so much more enamoring when he loses his perky attitude. When his mask of a perfect and humble athlete falls. Usually, your attempts at dissuading his pursuit were from a regard of not wanting to fall under the throng of people who fall privy to his charming tactics. But, when he’s himself. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, you can’t help but succumb to his allure. You always liked the real Tooru better, the cunning one who’s all too observant and equally as reciprocating. The one who sheds his sheepskin when he’s tired of playing the cheery character he portrays so well on the skin.

“Did you just call me out here to talk?” You tilt your head, feigning ignorance despite the pool of your eyes shimmering with interest.

Tooru shrugs, glancing around the parking deck momentarily before he pulls at the thin strap of your dress, his index and thumb rubs at the fabric. “Not necessarily, did _you_ come out here to talk?”

You bite your lip, tracing the collar of his sweater. There’s a feeling of heat that warms your body and travels throughout your veins. It contrasts against the cool breeze of Argentina when he places a hand on the small of your back. You lean forward to place a brief peck on his jaw, testing yourself. The first time you make an advance on him, not pulling away and waiting to see if he’ll engage. When he slightly turns his head, you take the initiative to kiss him, tasting the the faint remnants of the mint gum he was chewing on to rid his breath of the alcohol he was drinking.

He smells like an expensive cologne that tinges with a warm scent of sandalwood, only adding to the fire in your veins when he deepens the kiss by pulling you flush into him. You press your thighs together, trying to quell the heat that pools between your thighs with a hand pressed against the back of his neck while your other hand occupies itself on his bicep, squeezing the muscle when his tongue swipes your lower lip before slipping inside your mouth. The tip of his tongue is grazing yours when his palm falls to your ass. You moan into him, unable to suppress the sound when his fingers hook under your dress to feel the supple mound that’s so warm to touch and so soft. The waft of cool air creates a variation of temperature play against your skin that has you pressing your breasts against his chest. You hear a soft distant of laughter that snaps you out of your trance, jumping back and pulling your dress down.

The both of you are flushed, his eyes darkened and full of desire. “Get in.” His voice is low, husky even because he’s not done with you.

Your mind is in a fog, vision hazy, but it doesn’t deter you. “There’s people—,”

“Get in.” He repeats, opening the back door and scans the surrounding again. His windows are completely blacked out, no one would be able to see in.

You bite your lip, staring at him for a second longer before you do as told, climbing into the tan leathered backseats, gasping when he smacks your ass before he follows in behind you, the door shutting behind him. Your heartbeat is beating erratically when he pushes your dress to your hips, fingers slipping between your thong to rub at your slit that’s already wet from a mixture of the thrill from getting caught and the lust in wanting him.

Tooru’s breathing is completely leveled despite the sight in front of him of you being on all fours with your ass propped up. He rubs at your opening, his index and middle finger wet from the moisture that’s forming, mind whirling with desire to take you that exact way. His cock is bulging against his pants and his head throbs when you look back at him with parted lips, waiting and begging for him.

“Please, fuck me.” You whine, pushing your ass against his hand and shaking it. So needy, all self control left outside the door.

Tooru’s laugh is breathless. “When you put it like that,” his chinos are unbuckled not a second later, pushed down to his knees. He doesn’t plan to take them completely off, not wanting to waste a moment longer than he needs. Pulling his cock through the fly hole of his boxer briefs. “How could I say no?”

You feel him rub his head against your slit, gathering the slickness from your arousal. “Tooru,” you whimper, completely submissive, all for him.

He rubs on one of your cheeks, pulling it slightly so he can get a better view of entering inside of you. He takes his time in teasing you, rubbing his length against your cunt, watching his cock become coated with your sheen. “You’re so eager tonight. Is this all you wanted?” He teases.

You nod your head, pressing back against his cock, trying to get him to slip inside of you, but his hand on your cheek keeps you from taking control.

“You’ve been mean all day.” He fakes a pout, his voice is saccharine sweet. “You’re going to have to beg, baby girl.”

“B-beg?” You moan when his head slips inside your sopping cunt before it gets pulled out complete, back to running against your entrance.

“Beg.” He confirms, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look back at him. He smiles comfortingly despite his stark contrast in words. “Beg for me.”

From how he’s gripping your chin, your lips are formed into an ‘o’, wet and glimmering from saliva that leaves his mind to envision how gorgeous you’d look with his dick in your mouth. You’re staring at him with dreamy eyes, in a trance from the emotions he’s exuding. “P-please.” You whimper.

He tuts, thumb hooking into your lower lip. “You need to do better than that.”

He finds it riveting to see you so submissive. Taking in the pride of having you at this point of no control. His cock twitches against your slit when your tongue wraps around his thumb, mouth closing to suck with your cheeks hollowed out purposely. Leave it to you to test his own constraints.

“I need your dick inside of me.” You moan, eyes twinkling in desire. “Please, daddy. Please fuck me.”

Tooru licks his lips, smirking while he lets go of your chin. “Of course.” He finally settles into your cunt, groaning from how wet and tight you are. He’s convinced he’s about to bust a load right then and there, willing himself to pace his thrusts, uncaring about your loud moan that’s probably echoing to outside of the car. Your walls are constricting around his length, throbbing each time you meet his thrusts by throwing your ass back. His hand trails down your back to press down, forcing you to deepen your arch that has his eyes wanting to roll back.

“F-fuck, Tooru—!” You gasp trying to hold onto anything to keep yourself upright. Your exposed skin and the leather seats only add to the heat, temperatures rising and senses on overdrive as his cologne intertwines with the smell of leather and the sounds of him ramming into your sopping cunt.

Tooru gnaws on his bottom lip, the sight of a film of translucent white coating his cock only making his head twitch more as it brushes against your cervix. “Baby, you’re so tight. How are you so fucking tight?” He groans.

You look back at him, watching him place his index and middle fingers back to your lips and eagerly suck on them, saliva coating his fingers. Your gasp turns into a loud moan when his fingers rub circles on your clit. “Don’t stop, just like that. Right there,” you drawl, “feels so good, daddy.”

Tooru exhales a shaky breath, shaking his head as he drives his cock inside of you, watching you mewl underneath him, body twitching against him from the sensation of your clit being rubbed on. “Cum for daddy, I know you’re close, dirty girl.”

You feel his body hover over yours, his lips ghosting your shoulder blade as he rests his palm on the seat to keep himself upright. His hips meeting your ass, creating an incessant beat while your moans are getting louder. “Gonna— _fuck_ —cum!”

He groans against your skin when your walls tighten around his cock, throbbing and pulsing from your orgasm when he feels more lubrication coat his length. Wrapping an arm under you, he pulls you on top of him, sitting plush into the seat while you sit on top, hands going to your hips to lift you up to his tip before he slams you back down until he’s bottomed out. Your body is still quivering from cumming, barely able to fuck him back as he tries to reach his own orgasm.

You lean back into him, moaning into the crook of his neck as his hips snap up into you. “F-fuck, Tooru!”

He grits his teeth, cursing under his breath about how fucking wet you are, uncaring of how drenched his boxer briefs are or that there’s a pool of your wetness dripping onto his seats. Your cunt keeps clenching around him, almost as if you’re trying to milk him for all he’s worth and as he keeps driving up into your sopping cunt, he can feel his own pre-cum leak out, mixing itself with yours. “Where do you want it?”

You’re fucked out, mind is wrecked and unable to form a coherent sentence, moaning and squealing every time he brushes against your cervix. He’s not sure if you even responded, only getting a gist that you don’t want him to pull out when your walls clamp around his cock again. “Cum, daddy.” You drawl, almost giggling when he lets out a choked groan.

He feels the cum spurt out of the tip of his head, filling your cunt and gushing out with each slow thrust into you. A long guttural groan that follows from your cunt sucking the last bit of his cum from his cock. His grip on your hips are still tight as he pulls you to the tip of his head, looking at how coated his length is from a mixture of your and his own cum. He lets you pull yourself off, head lolling back against the seat as he watches you position yourself next to him to lower your head down.

“Gonna clean you up.” You grin at his lazy smile, eyes never leaving his as your tongue traces the vein on his cock, lapping up the cum that’s coating it.

Tooru’s staring at you through heavy-lids, groaning when your mouth covers his head. “You’re so good to me.”

Your giggle vibrates his dick causing him to groan again, another curse that breaks under his breath. He places a hand on your head, smoothing out your hair.

Tooru licks his lips and closes his eyes, fingers grabbing at your scalp when you start to suck him off, hips involuntarily bucking up. His head is too sensitive, each flick of your tongue, the warmth of your mouth making him grit his teeth from screaming out. “C-careful.” He chokes.

Your eyes flit back up to him, innocent eyes that were anything but are staring up at him. Your cheeks sunken in as your head keeps dipping until he can feel his cock at the back of your throat. You’re testing his self-control once again, almost begging him to fuck your throat with batted eyelashes.

Tooru almost growls when your fingers brush his balls. The hand that has your hair bunched tightens when he thrusts up, watching you choke, tears forming at the corners of your eyes when his cock hits your gag reflex. “Look at you.” He murmurs with a bated breath, thumb wiping the tears. “Go on, finish what you started.”

You practically moan from his lowered voice, using your hand to grab hold of the rest of his length you couldn’t fit into your mouth as you spit on it, garbled sounds escaping every time he guides you back down to take him deeper.

When your pace satisfies him, your head bobbing in a rhythm, he relinquishes his grip on your hair and leans his head back, closing his eyes once again while you work another orgasm out of him. When your tongue swirls around his head while your hand twists and jerks off what you can’t reach, he groans again. “Just like that, baby.”

His words only fuel you to keep at the pace, moaning when you taste his pre-cum leak out, the slightly salty taste being swallowed without so much as a grimace. Your lashes flutter up at him because you know he’s close from his clenched fist at his side and his deep breaths. Toffee colored hues opening and staring down at you when he groans out he’s about to cum. You withhold yourself from choking when his hand flies to your hair and keeps you down from moving as ribbons of cum shoot into your mouth. He’s panting, watching when you pull your mouth from his dick, swallowing happily and sticking your tongue out to show you’ve done just that.

Tooru can’t help but laugh, breathing heavily and stuck in the seat. He grabs your chin once again and pulls you up to him, swiping his cum from the corner of your lips and letting you lick it off his thumb.

You smile when he pulls you in, grinning in the kiss.

“I’m not done with you, yet.” He mutters, laughing at your shocked expression.

“Your teammates,” you start.

Tooru shrugs, tucking his dick back in and pulls his pants up. “They’ll be fine. You’re coming home with me tonight, get in the front seat.”

At one point, it was just rumors. Rumors of things that weren’t true. That the two of you were more than just agent and client until it wasn’t just that. That night you spent with him in his loft, against the wall, on the kitchen counters until he took you on his bed. Fucking you into oblivion until you were nothing but a rambling mess, crying and wailing that you couldn’t cum anymore. The start of something more like a shift in the pendulum where your regard for restraints dissipates.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing in your office. He wasn’t supposed to keep on doing it with you, but when you finally reciprocated his intentions, when you stopped caring about the repercussions, who was he to reject your own advances?

The next time he’s seen with you is at an event at the Melincué casino and resort. Tooru and his teammates are scattered around at different tables and slots. Majority of his team is sitting at the bar while Tooru is sitting at a poker table, surprising enough. Besides, who has a better poker face than him? It also makes it more interesting with you standing behind him, exceptionally close and whispering in his ear a mixture of obscene things to knock him off of his game. He ends up folding halfway through and pulls you into a private area, trousers at his ankles and your dress bunched up to your hips. A seemingly common occurrence now, to pull you somewhere that didn’t have prying eyes for a quick—more times not so quick—romp.

The both of you are returning from the little tryst, not a speck out of order that would indicate he fucked you in a sectioned off vip room when you’re swiveled around to face him and withhold a smile when he rotates your watch and fixes the necklace that was awkwardly tucked into your shirt. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, are you okay? You look a little flush.” He teases with a smirk.

You narrow your eyes before your gaze falls on someone behind him. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

He has to strain to hear your lowered voice, the hand on your wrist retracting to his side when you start stepping away. “How about a please?”

You suck in a deep breath of air, turning around to flash him a smile. “ _Please_?”

“Much better.” Tooru beams, watching you turn back around to greet someone. He hears someone cough behind him.

“Buenas noches, Mr. Oikawa. English, Japanese, or Spanish?” A man in a crisp, navy suit smiles charmingly.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.” Assuming that the man in front of him is with the mass amount of suited individuals just leaving a convention from the event that took place earlier that day, Tooru’s placid smile never fades. 

The investor begins to talk, first with pleasantries that diverts Tooru’s attention to focus on something else. The same things he hears whenever he’s out in public. Mostly the conversations go in the form ofstroking his ego, not that he minded. It’s rightfully deserved, he’s worked hard to get here. His attention zeroes in on the man again when he catches his name being called.

“Your last game against Funvic Taubaté was phenomenal. Are your stats on record already for that game?”

Tooru’s gaze flits back up to where you are, walking back towards him.“Thank you. I think my block was at 304 cm. Our next match will be with Montes Claros—,”

Your smile sharpens when you cut him off. “Looks like my client has some loose lips.”

Tooru frowns at your comment. He was just being friendly.

“A subtle hint on the qualifiers for the Olympic rankings is all I need. He doesn’t need to be tight-lipped about it.” His voice drops lower. “Come on, I’ve got sources that say his team is on the road to meeting the qualifications already.”

You take another step forward, whispering something that Tooru can’t make out before the investor backs away. Nothing gives away the conversation, no subtle gestures or a pleased smile, not even a displeased one.

“Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Oikawa, I look forward to watching you.” The investor speaks calmly before he walks away.

“What did you say?” Tooru watches the retreating figure, furrowing his brows at the weird conversation. It took an unexpected turn.

You glance at your watch before you put some distance between you two by heading towards a craps table. There’s a different aura to you, a cold one that he wasn’t sure on why. “Doesn’t matter. I saved your ass.”

—

He should’ve known better that getting involved with you was a gamble within itself. He should have folded his cards when he had the chance. If his mind wasn’t still hazy from a post-orgasm maybe he would’ve caught the signs earlier. Maybe he wouldn’t have just given out privy information regarding the intercontinental tour and maybe he wouldn’t be stuck staring at this woman who used to be your assistant like a deer in the headlights. Because it wasn’t about you and trade secrets, it was all about him and subconsciously handing stats over to a bookie that more or less made a profit off of his information. All due to his lapse in judgement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack — Rumors by Sabrina Claudio — I like what I'm hearing, so my attention, you get tonight; If you're half as good as you say you are, let's stop wasting time; Now, we can keep talking through everybody that's in this room; Or we can come face to face, and find out if it's true.


	14. Live It Pt.4

Several days pass after Aaron mentioned you and him would handle the situation, Tooru’s left to just hope that whatever was happening behind closed doors would be enough. Surprising enough, for the times he’s seen you, you’ve never brought up the situation at hand and neither has he, only biding his time to approach you in hopes that you’d mention it.

Tooru’s getting dressed and watching some volleyball highlights on a sports channel when it breaks to a specific commercial previewing the Olympics with Tooru running to the net with perfect timing, setting the ball so his teammate can spike it. His grin at the end of the commercial as he clenches his fist, jogging back to his position sets his heart aflame. It’s like time stills while something constricts against his chest. 

Reality sinks in that his hard work would be potentially for nothing. A result of succumbing over someone that bled the same as him. He starts to wonder what it would be like if you weren’t in his life. Would his priorities be different? He wouldn’t be in this position and he feels his heart start to stink down to the lowest pits of his body. Does he hate the result or does he hate that his heart would dread not having you in his life?

This mindset of his that he can’t help but be enamored by; this dreaded mindset that he also hates. The one where he can feel his choices and principles shift. Where he starts to fear the potential of loving you. He hates that he loves you and that scares him.He pursued you. He conquered. Despite that, the commercial changes to another advertisement for the upcoming Super Bowl and he’s left with a bitter taste in his mouth.

His track record in leaving when things don’t benefit him precedes him and he would be lying if he said he never considered it with you. It’s just his heart wouldn’t let him do it and that alone was another red flag. For the first time in a long time, he allowed his heart to lead. He opted on his judgement call in taking care of your issue with no regard for repercussions. No matter how many times he tries to over analyze or critique his course of actions, he’s surprised that he doesn’t regret a thing, but it only amplifies his anger in not being able to think clearly. In the world where it’s so easy to be washed out by newer and better athletes, he’s disappointed in himself that he’s strayed from his goal, all because of you.

When you finally do mention the subject matter, you’re in your work mode, meaning that when you and Tooru are in the same room together during business hours, you only see him as the setter for Argentina in the Olympics and not the man you’re engaged to which brings his irritation to a peak. He understands the issue in keeping work and personal separate, but the damned line has been crossed so many times that it’s stupid to keep on pretending that you don’t come home and sleep in the same bed as him after hours.

“I don’t know how to get you out of this, I’m sorry.” You murmur, glancing up at Tooru who’s sitting across your desk with his legs crossed and a stone-cold look.

He takes a second to respond, not wanting to blow a fuse right away. “You don’t know or you don’t want to?”

“Don’t do that,” you stop short when he cuts you off.

“So it’s the latter, then?” He uncrosses his legs and rests his arms on your desk. “Real cold, my love.”

The anger that’s swirling around his pupils and how he suddenly seems so much larger in front of you is enough for you to keep your mouth shut. You do know how to get him out of this, you just don’t want to and he knows that all too clearly. Meeting Tooru was at the prime of your career. You were young, bright, and driven to a point where you were in the top three most sought-out for agents. The saying of _right person and wrong timing_ never rang more clear because while Tooru was pining over you, you were pining over the fact that you would become an inspiration to other women around you to dig deep and dominate a male-dominated work force. As much as you love Tooru, you loved your career just as much until you crossed your own line of ethics. You just weren’t ready to give it up, yet.

Tooru’s gaze never leaves yours as he waits for you to say something—anything. Volleyball. The one thing that he’s invested so much time and grit into since he was a child. If you wanted to play professional, he can volley it right back to you. “You told me you were going to wipe your hands clean of agency work after the Olympics.”

“I know.”

Tooru tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling as if the bright light above would be his saving grace from losing his cool. “My career is on the line and you’re hush about it. To your fiancé.”

“We agreed to keep work and life separate.” You counter.

“ _My_ career,” He emphasizes. “the one I hired you for, remember?”

You frown when his Adam’s apple bobs from either swallowing a blow of words or whatever. His anger is bubbling to a head and you’d love to feed him lies to placate him. You would love to appease Oikawa Tooru, setter of Argentina. But, Tooru, your fiancé, you can’t lie to him. 

Tooru finally looks at you once more. “I need you to do something for me and you can’t do that? For someone who bent over backwards for you?”

His worst asset is that everything could become transactional to him. An eye for an eye, per se and even though he never mentioned anything in regards to owing him for his impressive save, you knew there’d be a time where he would use it against you. Tooru is a man that makes hard decisions all the time and regardless of his candidness in loving you, you know that his biggest downfall is how much he beats himself up whenever he sways from his ambition. He’s someone who’d retaliate if needed, the epitome of float like a butterfly and sting like a bee because his way of bringing someone down was never flashy, no. Not like yours. His retaliation would be silent, right under someone’s eyes and a part of you is scared that he would do the same to you if it regarded his own career. 

You narrow your eyes, the grip on your pen is so tight that your knuckles are white. “Now I owe you? That’s what we’re doing?”

“It’s _my_ career!”

“No shit!”

He’s taken aback from your raised voice before realization sets in. “You’re not going to help me.”

“Tooru—,” your rationale is clipped. 

“I don’t ask for much. I’m just asking you to do your fucking job.” He seethes and gets out of the chair, pushing it in and walking towards the door.

“We’ll handle it.”

Tooru sighs. “Don’t placate me.” He mumbles before opening the door and closing it behind him.

Your smile drops and you sit back into your chair, exhaling a deep breath of air as you rock back and forth, staring at the ceiling in hopes of figuring out how to untangle the webs.

The main issue at hand for you was whether or not you actually wanted to dirty your hands in his situation. As messed up as it sounded, he technically wasn’t your client anymore and if you were younger and weren’t engaged to the athlete, you’d have no issue in making Aaron sweat to figure it out on his own. The ambition in you wants to end the engagement, no matter how much you love him. The ambition in you loves your job more. You love the power, the wealth, and the lifestyle, who wouldn’t? Simultaneously making millions while standing court side and watching games that people could only dream of attending. Cozying up with seasoned athletes at parties and making dreams come true for rookies and watching their careers sky-rocket into being inspirations for the people to come after them. Because when Ben Simmons became the first pick in the first round and he hugged you so tightly while trying not to cry, you cried for him. When he became rookie of the year and you saw the light in his eyes and how he profusely thanked you for trusting in him, you cried with him. It’s the life you lived and loved until Tooru came in and wrecked your moral compass with his personal pursuit.

Love is a power within itself to sway people’s moral compasses and it’s been proven a handful of times throughout your relationship. It never rings more clearer when you’re wrapped in the arms of Argentina’s setter and you hate that you love him. With love comes a weakness that any successful person has to mitigate. People with personal vendettas. Because when you’re at the top, knocking off anyone without any regards, you’re seen as a threat and no matter how well you try to stay out the crossfire, it’s only a matter of time before someone’s plot comes to a head. 

You hate that the engagement ring on your finger seems to twinkle so brightly every time you look at it. You hate that no matter how many times you want to remain impartial, your heart guides you to do everything possible to protect him. The lines became blurred so long ago, your duty to assist and act in the best interest of the athlete reaching a new point when you realized your goals aligned with his in getting him to where he wanted to be. Your happiness that you felt when he won in the intercontinental tour, subsequently qualifying his club in the Olympics, was more than just an agent being thrilled that their client’s goals have been met. It was a lover sharing the same feeling as his when he looks over to you with so much pride and joy. He was a client turned lover who entrusted his career inyour hands and he believed in you. Who would you be to misplace his trust on both counts?

—

“I need your help.” You mumble, averting your gaze. “With.. uh, a work related issue.. kind of... and also advice and uh..—,”

“Spit it out. Have you lost all sense to talk clearly?” Your father’s voice shakes you and you straighten your posture, swallowing the pit in your throat.

“Tooru, got caught up in something because of me.” You mutter, finally looking your father in his eyes. “I know, you’re going to say you told me not to get caught up in it and that it’s a bad judgement call and—,” 

“What is it?”

“He might have leaked information about the intercontinental tour and unreleased matches and off record stats to a bookie.” You sigh. “And then the bookie happens to be an investor and helped keep the firm afloat.. and then now he’s getting blackmailed to rig the Olympic Games or basically get pitted for association with gambling.”

“Doesn’t his league have a union and have you consulted with FIVB?”

“He’s one of the few volleyball players under a restricted free agent agreement after signing the extension with the clause that he can solicit for other teams, granted some other contingencies.”

“Did you attempt a cease and desist? Could play it off as defamation of character, assuming they don’t have substantial evidence.”

“I might have also made a verbal agreement with the investor on top of leaking trade secrets.” You mumble. “Under the assumption he would of lost money from the information given to him, I promised my shares in the firm, so it wouldn’t fall back on Tooru. He ended up profiting, but since I left, I’m not sure what else my old assistant knows or has.”

Your father watches you with indifference, but you can see his irritation in your lack of judgement from his fingers moving on the table. “You signed a NDA?”

“No, so she probably just threatened it to shake him.”

“I’m assuming you want to avoid going to court and having it on public record.”

You nod. Having anything in public record about yourself was a sure-fire way to ruin you and there wouldn’t be anyway to fight that and it’d be equally as bad for Tooru because whether it gets thrown out off of a lack of evidence, it’d still be tied to him and everyone knows now that rumors always has an inkling of truth to it.

“You know what to do.”

“Wipe my hands clean?”

“Precisely.”

You frown because there’s two ways to go about _wiping your hands clean_. You can end the engagement and continue with your lifestyle with a heavy ache in your heart for potentially a long time. The truth is that jumping the gun and getting engaged wasn’t in your plan, but since when did you ever go according to plan anymore? You could be like your mother, sacrificing everything you ever loved to continue with pursuing your purpose in life, but did you want to? You didn’t want to give up mornings of waking up to Tooru or catnaps cuddled up to him while he would scroll through his phone, watching volleyball highlights while you slept. Nor did you want to give up weekend trips with him exploring South America with him finding any possible way to sneak you away to show you how much he loved you.

You also didn’t want to give up jet-setting across the globe to accompany your clients to games or feeling victory when your athletes are winning trophies and titles for all their hard work. You didn’t want to give up your ability to purchase whatever to your heart’s content nor the people who approached you to tell you how inspired they are to have a female agent in the sports league. You’d miss the way you’d be recognized as so and so’s agent and the lifestyle of luxury. Life would be much easier if your heart was on ice, if you didn’t let Tooru in to show you that your world was much more fuller with him in it. It would be so much easier if you didn’t consider giving it all up for him. 

You were torn. Who wouldn’t be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Super Bowl day! Is it crazy that it doesn’t even feel like SB? Bc of Covid, I lit ordered Uber eats and am just watching the game all by my lonely. SIGH, lol. I’m working on finishing this so Always & Forever is going to be on a mini hiatus until then. 
> 
> Soundtrack — Do Better by Gunna — I ain't pin you down, baby, I'd rather see you grow; Nobody wanna see you doin' better than 'em, though; I wanna see you do better.


	15. Live It Pt. 5

It’s ingrained in Tooru’s head that the sports world is complex for a number of reasons. From athletes to agents, fans to publicists, nutritionists to surgeons, coaches to trainers, more specifically, gambling to sports betting. Sports betting wasn’t completely illegal, it’s just the line between ethics and morals were so thin that the marginal area of safety could easily be crossed. From offshore bookmakers or athletes weighing in on their knowledge of the game to firms and corporations that participated by ensuring certain games would go according to plan to make profit by under the table dealings. The messiest part about it was that it’s so easy to say the wrong thing and have the situation manipulated. You had briefly mentioned that the Olympics was the biggest venue for sports betting to take place and since it was just legalized in the States, a loof under the table dealings still occurred due to the regulations. A scary thing really, to vividly see his career crumble into ashes, but he’s trusting in you and he’s hoping you wouldn’t misplace his trust.

Walking into a restaurant, dressed in a high neck, no sleeve black jumpsuit, you can’t help but feel that same heaviness in your chest. Tooru insisted on taking you out to a restaurant neither of you have been to before, apparently he knew the Michelin star chef from an event that the chef had catered for and stated that it would be good to spend time together not involving work. Easy enough. You spotted Tooru already sitting in a corner and his face lights up when he sees you.

Your heart feels full whenever you’re with him, whenever the externalities don’t play a part in the relationship and it’s crazy how his presence alone makes you feel warm and safe. Almost as if he was a shield from anything that threatened you and as you glance at him, you can’t help but feel so may things and remember so many memories made together. His hair that’s been yanked and pulled so many times by you. To his toffee colored eyes that always seem to see right through you. His nose that tickles your skin whenever he nuzzles into you and his lips. God, his lips. His mouth, his tongue, and everything about it. His arms that can lift you with ease, like the one time he threw you into the ocean because you insisted he wouldn’t. Arms that would hold you so tightly when you needed his comfort the most. Most importantly, his heart. The heart that beats for you and only you. The heart that’s proven time and time again that he would do anything for you if it meant you would still be by his side.

Tooru’s been watching you for awhile as you eat your food in silence. He knows what the source of your conflict is and he doesn’t want to address it, not tonight. “I think our wedding planner is going to quit.”

You cover your mouth with a napkin, coughing from his statement. “We’re the worst people to work with.”

“She’s complained to me on several occasions that she hasn’t been able to reach you for the past month.” 

You raise a brow. “Me? You haven’t even been present for anything. I had to drag you to go for a cake tasting!”

Tooru grins and lifts his hands. “That’s why we hired a wedding planner.”

“Who’s going to quit. Work your charm on her.” You pout and reach over to grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “Please.”

He squeezes your hand with a warm smile. “How could I say no to that pretty face of yours?”

There’s a wide grin that envelops you, teeth sparkling under the light. You’ll worry about everything else later.

—

“Does she want money?” Aaron’s walking beside you on the synthetic turf to stand behind the benched players on the American football field.

“Maybe.” You respond and smile at the coaches and players who walked by. “I remember her saying she hated the firm, though. Bunch of sexist men.”

“Heads.” Aaron murmurs to himself while he watches the coin toss take place. It is heads. “She’s going to do their dirty work?”

“It doesn’t make sense.” You concur.

Aaron’s visual focus is still on the field in front of him like the wonderful agent he was in watching his clients play. “They out Argentina’s beloved athlete for indirect illicit dealings then they also go down because of the dirty money that upheld their continuity of operations. She knows you, knows how you work. If she approached Tooru, shook him up a little, you’d come running.”

“It _is_ a personal vendetta.”

The crowd erupts into cheers—Aaron included—when his client scores a touchdown already. “Tooru under their belt would have them become the most wanted firm for athletes that are under free agent agreements, he would’ve gotten passed down to her if you didn’t tweak the contract like you did. Of course it’s a personal vendetta you twat.”

You ignore his comment. “No worries, I’ve got it handled.”

—

Tooru always knew he was destined for greater things when Seijoh lost to Karasuno. He didn’t fully understand heartache until that day—his last year—when his soul crushed right in front of his face. The disappointment and the tears that stained his team’s eyes because they all trusted in him to lead the way.The victorious look on Shoyou’s face, especially Tobio’s. Japan wasn’t for him anymore. It was theirs for the taking. He wouldn’t get to where he needed to be in Japan because he refused to be the runner-up and that was the God honest truth. For the first time, his facade fell that day and he promised that it would never break again.

He’s lived a long life of playing two different people. One person is the one that everyone has come to know and love, the pristine Oikawa Tooru that excels in being a setter with a bubbly persona and a cheeky smile. The one that does no wrong, the one that people envy and aspire to be. The other person is Tooru, the one that constantly feels the world is against him with a heavy heart and mind that always succumbs to the deepest pit of insecurity. He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep it up. The forced smiles and the vivacious personality that attracts people to him. It’s becoming harder to pretend, especially when someone keeps hammering away at his mask.

When he became the rookie at San Juan, he had a lot of catching up to do. A lot of dedication and hard work in proving that he was capable of being the setter for them and it wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. It was worth feeling capable and finally good enough. It was worth the prestige that came with it. A Japan transplant who lead San Juan to win multiple tours before his initial contract was up. Oikawa Tooru, the man who immersed himself into the Western culture in hopes that he could one day make a name for himself somewhere outside of Japan and he did. But, just reigning over a foreign country in volleyball wasn’t enough. He wanted to be the person whose name would inspire the athletes after him. He wanted to put volleyball on the list of international sports, right alongside FIFA and FIBA. He didn’t want to be second anymore. He was going to be first. Most importantly, he was hungry and he was going to make sure he eats.

He didn’t realize how popular sports agency was and it actually made a lot of sense. A person and/or firm designated in handling an athlete’s brand. He’s spent time conducting research upon research in finding agents. None of the ones that specialized in volleyball specifically piqued his interest. Their clientele wasn’t enough or they didn’t have enough clout. Firms based out of Argentina weren’t prolific enough and didn’t have enough standing within international leagues. It wasn’t until one of his teammates born in the States mentioned that the best agents were from his home-country and most of them were licensed with numerous leagues and associations. Then, he found the firm he wanted, looking through all the agents who’ve signed name-worthy athletes and players from a range of international and domestic sports. There was one specific agent that finally piqued his interest. The one who was around his age with names he’s heard of under her belt. The one who was seen as a highlighted figure of what an agent was supposed to be. He wanted you.

He wasn’t sure why he fell so hard for you at first. Sure, you were good at your job. Hungry—like him—to be the best of the best. At first, he thought it was just an appearance thing. Who could blame him? You looked good in suits and dresses, especially in athletic-leisure clothing. Then, he realized it was your specific vulnerability for him. The countless of times you’ve sacrificed logic to follow your heart. The nights spent with him away from prying eyes. The way you relinquished every sense of control for him. The trust you placed in him when you opened your heart. It was a feeling he relished in. You trusted in him with everything you had and he wouldn’t fail again.

_“I wouldn’t go in there if I was you.” Your assistant whispers to Tooru who’s blinking at her like an owl._

_Pacing back and forth in your office, strands of hair out of place from pulling at it as you feel your heart constrict against your chest. You were inconceivably angry and all you saw was blaring flashes of red after reading the congratulatory email that promoted a newbie as a senior agent. As many times as you’ve gotten rookies picked in the first round, it made no sense on how an agent who specialized in PGA tours was able to get promoted before you. You worked so hard. So fucking hard._ _You turned around to face the window. You hear the door open and exhale a deep breath through your nose, preparing yourself for a lecture about keeping ‘period tantrums’ close-lipped until after five._

_“Do you do this often?”_

_Your eyes widen when you recognize the voice and swivel around to face Tooru. Papers were strewn around, most of the objects on your desk broken on the floor, and things hanging on the wall crooked or shattered. Putting on the most placid smile as if you didn’t just have a breakdown, you grab the iPad off of your desk and gesture to the door. “We can talk in the boardroom.”_

_Tooru scans your surroundings before he looks back at you. “Are you okay?”_

_You ignore his question and start to walk to the door. “Brazil’s shown interest in you, but I don’t think they’re ready to match your contract, we’ll have to up it a notch to force your current club to want to negotiate.”_

_Tooru blocks the door. “Want to talk about it?” He asks the question as if he didn’t hear your last statement and he’s genuinely concerned. Maybe because he’s never seen you overwrought. You were usually well-composed._

_You bite back a snarky response as the grip tightens on your tablet._

_“I’m not letting you out until you talk to me.” He shrugs and crosses his arms while leaning against the door._

_You hold his gaze for awhile, the both of you in a long contest of who’ll blink first before you concede defeat and throw your tablet onto the cushioned chair. “I was supposed to be promoted, then this idiot newbie stole my promotion. All he specializes in is golf.” You laugh bitterly. “This is stupid. I’m sorry.”_

_“It’s not stupid if you care about it.” He starts and takes another look at the mess around you. “The things that are out of our control, we can’t force. We just have to work harder and do better.”_

_You didn’t respond, but you were shocked at his words. Staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights._

_“Didn’t you say that the best way to shit on everyone was to rub your success in their face?” Tooru chuckles and returns your smile._

_“For sure.” You mumble, walking over to grab your tablet again. “Thank you.”_

_Tooru grins and bends down to pick up the scattered papers and some of the things that could be easily fixed. “We have to take care of each other. I can’t have a distracted agent working on my contract.” He laughs when you throw a stress ball at his face._

He wakes up to the pitter patter sound of you typing away on your laptop. The sun has barely risen and he’s still exhausted. The heaviness weighing on his chest adds to his foul mood and fortunately, today is his off day. As much as he wanted to ponder and come up with a game plan to combat the ever looming destruction of his career, he knows that it’s out of his hands at this point. The ball’s in your court.

The tension between you two was too thick and your impromptu flight to go somewhere in the next twenty-four hours has his stomach clenching in dreaded anticipation. Regardless, Tooru rolls onto his side and takes a look at what you’re working on. He presses a chaste kiss on your arm in greeting.

_“I’m not going to lose on purpose, are you out of your mind?”_

_“Just say it’s a deal, you’re not actually going to go through with it.”_

_“No.”_

_You let out an exasperated sigh, turning to lay back on your back. “You don’t think it’s odd she asked you months before the actual event?”_

_“What does that have to do with anything?” Tooru grumbles, sliding back down to lay next to you. When he thinks about pillow-talking, he thinks about a couple cooing at each other with words of affirmation and planning a future, not this._

_You stare up at the ceiling. “Any person knows you’re supposed to give someone an ultimatum right before the game. Not months in advance. Either they’re really dumb or it’s a ruse.”_

_He turns to lay on his side and face you. “I think you know more than you’re letting on.”_

_You turn to your side, facing him as well. You can see the stress on his features, the way his lips are down turned and he looks completely vulnerable. His dreams were for the taking, on the grasps of being snatched and everything he worked for would go down the drain._

_“She can’t get me for trade secrets, but she can get me by ruining you.”_

_Tooru scoffs. “It’s personal.”_

_You nod with a lopsided smile. “Wouldn’t it be so much easier if we didn’t love each other?”_

_“Definitely.” Tooru mirrors your smile while moving a strand of hair out your face. “It’s a good thing I don’t like easy.”_

You’re stressed and Tooru can tell from the bags under your eyes. “Sleep?” He offers, staring up at you with puppy-dog eyes and his lower lip jutted out. “I’m still tired, your typing is annoying.”

You glance at him and smile, dramatically sighing and stowing the laptop away before you inch towards him.

He wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to his chest. Almost as if he read your mind, he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Worry about it when you wake up.”

You already knew what to do, you just didn’t want to act on it and as you look up at him, you force a smile and nod.

—

You can stand in arenas all day, over analyze, critique, and run multiple plays in your head simultaneously. Your fault was something your mother would tell you over and over again before she passed. _When you have everything in life and you’re alone, will it be worth it?_ Which you found ironic, by the way. Perhaps she passed with regrets because she missed so many years of your and your brother’s life. Regrets from your father growing an unbreakable wall of resentment towards her. Or she was trying to tell you to throw in the towel of this lifestyle. Who cares about the money when you can experience a love so great? Who cares about the expensive lifestyle when you have no one to share it with?

You were torn on what to do and how to do it. You were the one that took Tooru under your wing and introduced him to the world you lived in. You took him under your wing before he was an international seasoned athlete and got him to where he wanted to be. Once San Juan’s setter, now Argentina’s setter. The man whose personality was so infectious to the people around him, he was born to be in the spotlight, born to be a renowned star and it’s something that you had cultivated to make sure he was just that.

Tooru also took you under his wing, reciprocating the same energy to make sure that you’ve changed for the better as well. You were detached, manipulative, and quite frankly, you were lost. Lost in a glitz and glam lifestyle that never quite quelled the emptiness in your heart. You were a slave to the wealth. Indulged in wine that was seen like a fountain of youth. Addicted to materialistic things that bandaged an abyss in your soul. Emptiness and loneliness were all emotions that were covered up with the finest fabric and VVS diamonds. You sold a dream to people while your biggest insecurities ate at you. The fear of losing it all, losing the fairytale you lived in where everything was okay. A paradise that made you feel so full from vanity and fake love. A world where people only wanted to see you fail. The twenty-two year old full of naïveté, blindsided by an influx of wealth and love from people that you don’t know, eagerly trying to fit in to a crowd that could smell weak blood from a mile away like a shark. The lies you promise you’ll never believe end up becoming like the truth as time goes on until you lost your sense of who you really were.

Promises you made to yourself, nights you spent with rich moguls, making them whisper lies in your ears to satiate the emptiness in your heart. You just wanted love. That was all you wanted. Real love. Not the love that fades when the name fades. The love that makes you cry from an overwhelming abundance of joy and trust. The same warning your mother gave you when you became an agent rang clearer on nights you were sober. _Don’t lose yourself to a lifestyle that can fade as quickly as it came._ So, maybe Tooru’s ability to remain true to himself throughout all the tribulations was a beacon of light that showed you his integrity and virtue wasn’t a sign of weakness but a strength. You would see the way he watches you work, the lies you would spew out to appease someone. The phrases you would use to placate apprehensive people like your word was the truth alone. He was immune to all of it, able to read you so easily that it scared you because he saw right through the Italian fabric and the custom-made jewelry that cost more than someone’s house. He saw right through you.

What you saw as living a life of luxury, he saw as a cry for help. He saw you at your most vulnerable state, when drunken words become the truth. He saw it in the way he made love to you, the tears that fell when he rocked into you and repeated he loved you with each thrust. Behind your own facade, you were a vessel of insecurities. A person who was so alone that you searched for solace and comfort in an area that would only appease you with a never-ending flow of things that would lose value over time. Tooru saw the longing in your eyes that you would never bring up when your brother got married and had kids. You never wanted that, but after your mother passed, you assumed it wouldn’t be so bad to have.He would give it all to you, whatever you wanted. He would love you for as long as you allowed him to. He saw you as someone who did things out of the kindness of your heart at one point, until you became brainwashed into the lifestyle you were in now. Hearing stories from your family that made him laugh and smile, he wanted to bring you out of your pit of darkness like you did him. He stood by you during your darkest hour and guided you out of your misery. Most importantly, he’s loved every aspect of you even when you couldn’t. 

The relationship that wasn’t really a relationship is what got you in the situation you’re in now. Engaged, conflicted, and hopelessly in love with two things that kept colliding into each other. A train wreck. A boat sinking. But, it’s also like warmth from the sun. Like fireworks. It’s everything that leaves you breathless. You have a torn heart that leaves your mind spiraling.

Standing exactly where the substitution box takes place, hands clasped behind your back, you stare at nothing in particular. Maybe the empty stands in front of you or the whole arena in general. Freshly polished floors and unusual silence that a pin drop would echo throughout the arena. While your senses were drifting towards the many different things in the court, your thoughts are zeroed in on outcomes and possibilities. The many things that you’ve tried so hard to work around and failing all over again. The Olympics were around the corner—under two months—and Tooru was in Argentina prepping as best as he could and also trying not to think about the proposition at hand. You were running back and forth trying to find something—anything—that could get him and/or yourself out of the situation. You could run away, you’ve thought about that a handful of times. It’d be easier, but then the idea of Tooru losing all respect you left a bitter taste on your tongue.

You looked a little ridiculous, your blazer bunched up to your elbows, but you weren’t trying to sweat. You were just relieving stress by shooting a specific orange ball to help you think, calculate, and regroup. Memories replay in your mind as you shoot the ball into the net, sometimes missing and then readjusting your aim. Metaphorically and physically.

At one point in time, you didn’t care for volleyball, wasn’t really interested in this Oikawa Tooru, whose name kept swirling around the office in whispers and people placing bets on who the volleyball setter would choose as his first agent. The first volleyball player in Argentina to take a risk from the protection of being represented by a union and become a restricted free-agent. There were other agents who wanted in on him, men that knew volleyball like the back of their hand and you made a purposeful decision to stand in the back because you didn’t think going neck and neck with subject matter experts was a smart move.

_The head of the firm continued with introductions until he finally ended it with yours. Your coworkers moving aside respectfully to let yourself be seen and as you finally look up when he mentions your extension you acquired for a previous NFL player, you saw honey-laced eyes that intrigued you. You’ve seen him on tv, watched him in press conferences, read about him in articles, but never seen him in person. Never understood what the hype was about him until you actually saw him. Chestnut colored hair, sparkling irises, and a confident aura about him. You’re interested._

As much as you’d rather pass off the setter to someone with a better knowledge in the game, something kept telling you to represent him. It could’ve been his shit-eating grin every time he saw you go toe to toe with other people or it was your own newly found piqued interest when you actually saw him play.

_The Aldo Cantoni stadium where San Juan usually played their home games had all the seats filled. Your assistant stood next to you, telling you how volleyball matches usually went. From points to sets and how the time wasn’t a factor in the games, which you inputted a snarky question of ‘so it can take all day?’ Of course, you could leave whenever you felt like it, but highlights and games on the big screen didn’t do Tooru justice. Besides, if you were supposed to represent him as his agent, it meant showing face and pretending like you were super stoked to watch. You end up eating your own words because you’re invested and in awe like a star-struck fan watching her biggest role-model. His communication skills were impeccable. His relationship with his team unmatched. He put your own clients to shame and that alone says something._

_When you’re on the front facing end and know enough about sports, you’ll come to find that not everyone has the same grit as others. You’ll easily be able to spot who won’t last long in the leagues and it’s all in how they carry themselves throughout the games and post-games. From how they communicate with their teammates, how they play, and how quick they are on their feet to pivot and turn the game around in their favor and Tooru? He had it all down pat. That was when you decided you’re not giving him up, no. You’d cultivate his skill, make him a well-renowned seasoned athlete. A monumental figure for the people to come after him. He’s going to win championships, trophies, awards, and everything in between._

_“Still wanna hand him over to me?” Liz teases when she notices your attention hasn’t averted from the match for awhile._

_You smirk. “Nah. This guy’s going to be in the hall of fame.”_

Sighing, you position your arm again before shooting the ball and watching it land into the net after hitting the backboard. Each goal, lightening the heaviness in your chest. Each missed goal, adding the weight right back.

_As you did your little rundown of your checklist, you couldn’t help but stare at him a second longer than you normally would. “Anything I should know about? Any addictions? Steroids? Adderall? Alcohol?” You thumb through pages from a copy of his current contract, circling areas of interest._

_“Seriously? I’m offended.” Tooru’s teasing lilt causes you to glance up. There’s that confident grin again._

_Your gaze lingers on him for a while before you look back down. “Never know. It’s always the ones you least expect. Any relationships? Models? Crazy people that we should be looking out for?”_

_“Why, are you interested~”_

_Your lip twitches._

You grab another basketball and walk to the half court line. His pursuit only became more intense and you weren’t sure if it was just part of his personality or if he didn’t have anything better to do or if he just wanted to see how far he could go before you exploded.You stare at the goal and bend your knees slightly before you spring up and shoot the ball again.Favors. Transactions. They were all part of the business and you weren’t really surprised nor apprehensive when Tooru insisted on ‘paying’ you back for the things you’d do for him as an agent. Like making sure his trainers were adequate enough for him specifically or more personal favors like ensuring he had a way to get back home from the club.

_He had called you at two in the morning, shit-faced drunk and mentioning that the people he went with all left with someone else. Not really wanting to have his pristine image tainted with being rendered a clubber and a drunk or having a cab driver or Uber leaking unprecedented information to the tabloids, you reluctantly got out of bed and drove to pick him up, instructing he needed to try to walk like he had some sense when he walks out the club. He did just that and profusely thanked you when you pulled up outside the building. With hopeful thinking, you assumed it could have always been worse and he could be throwing up in your car, instead he continued to talk.. and talk... and talk some more. It couldn’t get much worse than that._

_He was blabbering about an Iwa-chan and a Makki and occasionally a Shoyou to which you didn’t respond to as he rambled on and on about a Tobio as well. Your head was hurting and it was like he didn’t stop for a breath—at all—which made you think about if he could keep that same energy if he went down on you and— never mind, forget that thought. You were tuned out, humming a song to yourself to filter him out until he mentioned something that had your attention zero in on him._

_“Are you dating anyone?” Tooru teases with a flush of pink in his cheeks, staring at you with darkened eyes as he leans his elbow on the console between you two._

_You ignore his question and keep your eyes on the road._ _The alcohol must’ve given him an extra boost of shameless confidence._

_“If you are, I promise I’ll treat you a lot better than they can.”_

_You can’t help but chuckle, resting your elbow against the window. You’ll entertain it. It’s going to be a long drive anyways. “Is that right?”_

_“Absolutely, I’m the best.” He boasts, grinning at you with all his teeth. “I’ve been told I’m amazing in bed, too. How do you like it? Fast? Slow?” Tooru watches your eyes narrow and smirks, leaning closer to you. “Do you like being the dominant type... or do you like to be choked? With a hand or wi—,”_

_You cut him off and push him back in his seat with a free hand. “You’re being inappropriate.”_

_Thankfully, the roads aren’t lit and it’s dark inside of your car, otherwise he’d see the smile on your face for whatever reason and Tooru’s drunken state doesn’t seem swayed in the least bit, but at least he’s a conscientious drunk so he doesn’t ask anything else and he wasn’t the type to keep it going, assuming you were uncomfortable._ _You’re sober, way too sober, so you couldn’t make any excuse for what comes out of your mouth next and he’d remember it no matter how far gone he was. “In front of a mirror, I want to see myself getting fucked.”_

_Tooru’s eyes widen as his head turns to you with an equally wide smirk._

_The next week, you didn’t expect a gift of a floor-length mirror show up to at your doorstep with an anonymous note. ‘Put it to use one day, preferably with me.’_

You miss the shot, watching as the ball bounces off the backboard and hits the ground. It’s when your logic strays, when the shameless flirting begins to be on both ends. Little sly comments here and there, lingering looks, deep conversations, and a newfound trust that begins to be built. It’s the turning point that throws you off guard.

_You’re wasted at some bar because your best friend insisted on popping up in Argentina to visit you. She ends up going home with some cute Argentinian guy who didn’t speak a lick of English, but you guess he didn’t really need to which meant you were left trying to find your car, wondering how you were going to get home when you couldn’t even see straight. It just so happened Tooru is at the right place and the right time, because he sees you stumbling out the bar he’s at and after a confused moment, he told his team he’d catch up with them later._

_He finds you trying to search for your key fob to your car and shuffling things around in your crossbody searching for that stupid thing to unlock your car. If you were sober, you’d know the car would unlock if you were close enough to it, but you are not sober. Far from it._

_“You shouldn’t be driving.” Tooru wasn’t drunk, opting on drinking water throughout the night since he had a training session the next day. The two of you were in the weird state of your relationship, him having fucked you a few weeks prior and then it just being an unspoken and unquenched sexual tension being built back up to a head. He didn’t quite finish what he started and you didn’t make any means in addressing it._

_You whip around and your face lights up. Something so simple that would make his heart skip a beat. “I can’t find my key.”_

_Tooru takes a steps forward and guides you closer to the car until you’re within distance of unlocking it. He places a hand under the handle and your car beeps unlocked._

_“How did you do that?!” You squeal and jump up and down, flinging your arms around his neck with excitement. You reek of alcohol, peppering kisses all over his face while he chuckles from this new state you’re in._

_With a lot of finesse and having to buckle you up himself, he comes to find that you’re the drunk who’s handsy. Thankfully, self-restraint was something he excelled in and he finally gets you back home to your apartment and is about to get a ride to the hotel he was staying at when you stop him._

_“You know, I still haven’t put that mirror you got me to use yet.” You whisper against his chin, your lips rests on his jaw as he clenches it slightly._ _“Stay. Please?” Your voice is surprisingly timid. Eyelids heavy and pleading. You’re vulnerable when drunk. Exceptionally needy and he usually hates it, but he finds it endearing on you._

_Tooru sighs and dips down on the bed to kiss your puckered lips. “You’re drunk.”_

_“I can be drunk and still know what I want.” You mumble and pull him down towards you. “Don’t make me beg.”_

_Tooru’s really contemplating it, taking a long moment to assess the situation before he concedes. “Don’t pretend like you don’t remember asking me to spend the night then.”_

_“Deal, now c’mere. You smell good.” You grin when he finally stops pulling away. “... and take this off.” You whisper, pulling at the hem of his shirt._

You’re about to shoot another ball when you hear the doors to the arena open and look towards the entrance. There’s a lot of things that go through your mind. Too many thoughts that swarmed in your head within your twenty-four hour window. You’re out of time and it’s a scary thing because you were having second thoughts.

When people think of workplace semantics, they wouldn’t assume this. The dirtied hands of knocking people out like chess pieces. It seems too dramatic, too unlikely for it to happen, until it happens. You’ve been a sports agent long enough to know that there were several types of niches. NFL, NBA, MLB, world sports like football/soccer, volleyball, tennis, and more. It’s not about people wanting to merge into other niches, it’s about the people in your own niche. Once you establish yourself and become a notable presence in a sector, it’s hard for other agents to come into the picture. Time is monopolized and that leads to an array of schemes to try and knock the top people off their game. Now, you could be like Aaron. Clients here and there in different categories of sports to keep yourself relevant and versatile. But, you weren’t him. You just wanted to keep yourself relevant in a sport you love and was damn good at managing. Which is why you’re confused on why a woman who has no interest in NBA or FIBA is more concerned with putting her nose in places it didn’t belong than trying to find her own niche.

“Made a decision?” Your old assistant’s voice echoes throughout the empty arena, a sarcastic smile splayed on her face as she watches you shoot hoops.

_“You and Oikawa... are you two—?”_

_“No.” You don't miss a beat, scanning the crowd where Tooru was standing in a navy suit with a group of other volleyball players. He was laughing about something, an easygoing smile on his lips as he keeps a hand in his pocket. Turning your attention back to the woman in front of you, you raise a brow. “Why?”_

_She blinks and clears her throat, trying to figure out how to approach it. “Uh.. well. Y-you two just look close, that’s all.”_

_“He’s my client. Of course we’re close.” You respond and roll your eyes, finishing the glass of champagne in your hand and set it on the table. “Don’t insinuate something that isn’t there.”_

_Your assistant pauses before she nods and murmurs an apology. You’re convinced you are the worst of agents, part of the group of scum that sleeps with their clients. Out of everyone you could have picked, you choose the one who’s legally bonded to you through a wet signature for the tenure of his contract. You picked the one who looks way too good in anything he wears, the one who’s skin is porcelain-like in the winters and so beautifully sun-kissed in the summers. Brown hues that turn from a shade of honey to fine whiskey depending on the time of night. The one who’s been giving you smoldering gazes all night with an unspoken promise that only you would understand._ _Turning your head, you reach for another glass of champagne and nod towards to a group. “You should interject yourself. Let them know who you are. Network. You’re into volleyball anyways so it should be easy.”_

_“What if they ignore me?” She gnaws on her bottom lip, unsure and scared of rejection. Doe-eyed, new and timid. Just like yourself in your first year._

_You smirk and sip your drink. “Don’t let them.” You notice she’s still standing there and narrow your eyes. “Go. Now.”_

_You’d come to realize that she catches on quick and your own missteps and weaknesses would make it all the more easier for her to flip the script._

You have a small smile on your lips. How could you knock her hustle? You’re the one who taught her how to play anyways.

What was supposed to be her being taken under your wing in learning the linguistics of agency work ended up her coming to read you like a book. Every misstep, every mistake, she saw with a watchful eye, waiting and preying until she had enough to swoop right under and knock you off your feet. Because Oikawa Tooru was supposed to be handled by a licensed FIVB agent, not a person in FIBA. He was supposed to fall into her hands when Haru finally agreed to oust a relationship that wasn’t really a relationship. He wasn’t supposed to be so damn smart and calculative. Most importantly, it wasn’t supposed to go as far to him as getting to the point of being in love with you because love could be a powerful thing as much as it was a weakness. The two of you were too synchronized at that point, what his weaknesses were became your strengths and vice versa. 

_“I love you.” Tooru murmurs with his chin resting on your head, holding you tight against his chest as you both look out into the South Atlantic._

_His voice sounded like a sweet song that you’d want to hear for the rest of your life. Strong arms that fit snug around your body while you both stood on the deck to the villa that overlooked white sand and dark blue waters. Orange hues in the sky with dusts of speckled pink and purple. He promised to take you to Salvador, to show you everything the world had to offer. To give you a glimpse of a future of him in it, a promise that he, too, could show and teach you things. Things that made you feel so full. Fuzzy with warmth and peace. He taught you that home didn’t need to be a place, it could be with a person. The exact moment you realized how much he grounded you and you never wanted to let go anymore._

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, this is a loooooong one. 
> 
> Soundtrack — Trust by Alina Baraz, Escape from LA by The Weekend and Show me Love by Alicia Keys


	16. Step 9: Win or Lose

_Nobody can know._

Too easy. Tooru had no issues with keeping a secret, not when he realized how selfish he was with you. With the way your lips glistened when you’re fucked out and the way your eyes were clouded with desire for only him. He had no issues with keeping a secret when your body had a sheen to it and when you’re completely undone all because of him.

It’s what makes the moments all more riveting when he’s the only one who knew what you looked like underneath your clothes. When he could feel the crevices of your skin from the fabric that covers it. He could already visualize the skin that he just wanted to feel. Just to see the way your skin would prick up from his touch and his touch alone.

He’s a jealous person in all aspects of his life. Especially when he saw what’s considered his being threatened by something or someone else. It’s made more clear when he saw someone walk up to you at his volleyball match. The attention that was previously on him was diverted to the person in front of you. The other person’s ability to publicly touch you in public made him clench his jaw, serving the volleyball with much more force. A service ace that had the crowd and his fans erupting into cheers. He doesn’t care because the only person he wanted to impress was focused on someone else. It’s annoying that they could rest a hand on your arm without anyone batting an eye. It’s infuriating to see them do the double cheek kiss on you with everyone only assuming that it was just a form of greeting. But, your cheeks weren’t the only thing Tooru kissed and he felt a small inch of victory from that alone. He could keep secrets. It didn’t mean he wanted to, though.

The stupid secret he’s kept for months. Pulling you away from prying eyes with some bullshit excuse just so he could steal a kiss from you. He realized he didn’t want to be your secret anymore when he saw the said person whisper something in your ear that made you laugh. Your attention no longer on the game when you turned away from the courts to engage in a conversation. He’s beyond annoyed at that point and it showed in his plays. Newfound rage and power that had the stadium on the edge of their seats, watching the star player lead the game and widen the gap in points.

He’s selfish. Never liked to share. Never wanted to be runner-up. Never wanted to share the spotlight with someone else. Your attention should be on him. Your client. If it meant he had to pull a play from his old playbook that he would use back at Seijoh to get attention, he would. You brought out the best and worst in him and no matter how much he’s changed and matured, your attention should be on him. He ran to reach for the ball, setting it at just the right angle and grinning when the other team tried to get it back over the net on his side. With sloppy precision and more power than they expected, he stepped away from the ball to watch it hit just outside the in-line. The volleyball sprung off the floor and flew towards where you stood.

You turned your head back to him when the crowd gasped. Just as you were about to step away, the man next to you caught the ball before it hit you. Tooru smiled apologetically while rubbing the back of his head. He wasn’t sorry and you knew it was on purpose when he winked at you. Fucking asshole.

—

Keeping things on the low wasn’t part of Tooru’s forte. He’s flamboyant, loved to show off and especially enjoyed the attention. It’s part of his charm, part of his persona, and he hated that he couldn’t show you off. Hated that he couldn’t have you on his arm when he was in public. Loathed the distance you two needed to keep beside each other as if you didn’t leave his bed that morning. You screamed his name in private, crying for him, begging for him. In public, it was only friendly smiles and his name was reduced to a lilt of professionalism. He hated secrets, especially because in this particular moment, you looked too delectable for him to not touch you.

He didn’t realize how close he was to you two until he could make out the conversation between you and some investor. He recognized the face good and well. It was your ex.

“You’re the one who didn’t want anything to do with me when I told you to move to D.C.” Your ex gave you a once over. “There’s a lot of law firms that were looking for people like you, but I guess sports management is one way to use it.”

_Ouch_. Tooru watched your jaw clench and finally stepped beside you. “Can I steal you for a moment?”

“Surely you can wait. We’re in the middle of a conversation.” 

Tooru’s polite smile broadened, never once looking in his direction. He lead you away without so much as acknowledgement to your ex.“He seems like the real charmer.”

You scoffed. “He’s such an asshole.”

“Is that your type or something?” Tooru responded, glancing back at you while he lead you to a more secluded area.

“I think that’s just who gravitates towards me.”

Tooru faked a gasp and placed a hand on his heart, swiveling around to face you. “You’re categorizing me as an asshole?”

“You don’t count, but yes. You can be an asshole.”

“What if I did?” He challenged. 

“What if you did?” You put two and two together without missing a beat. “Count?”

Tooru finally closed the gap between you two, dipping his head slightly to hover his lips over yours. “Would it be so bad?”

Would it? He could come up with a million reasons why it wouldn’t be bad at all. Only a handful of why it would. Who cared if people found out? You’re captivating, gorgeous in those dresses that accentuated every curve on your body. Those eyes that showed so much emotion when you were beneath him. He could get lost in them, willingly. Publicly. Nobody would be able to blame him for pursuing you.

He felt your lips press against his, closing the gap between you two completely as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The risk of someone seeing you two jumpstarted the fire within him. He found the curves of your ass and gave a firm squeeze as he tilted his head slightly, tongue mapping out the crevices in your mouth as he backed you against the closest thing, in this case, a wall.

“It has to be a secret. Do you know how fucked I’d be if someone finds out?” You whispered against his skin as he trailed searing kisses down your neck.

Tooru chuckled and ran a hand down your side.“You’re going to get fucked regardless.”

You shivered when he rubbed your exposed thigh from the slit in the dress, lolling your head back as he continued to suck on your neck. “Someone can literally just walk by and see.”

“Okay, just give me a couple more minutes.” Tooru murmured. 

To break at your walls. He’s patient. He’ll keep hammering away until you come to a realization you can’t stray away from him anymore. He’ll play your little games until you can’t take them anymore. He’ll play the role of a silent lover until your hand is forced. Besides, he could tell that you didn’t want out with him anymore. Not when his advances became too risky. Not when you’re moaning with every touch and feeling, body arching into his hands as he gets you to cum from just his fingers alone.

—

There were specific moments that lead you and him here. Points in different days and times that signified the change in your relationship. All moments that were shown to your face like a gift of _fuck you_ with a ribbon attached to it. You couldn’t really deny it anymore, not when there’s a ring on your finger and receipts of each moment engrained into your head on how you ended up here. From the moment you realized he actually wanted you in ways that wasn’t just for sexual temptations. To the time you realized you wanted it, too. Every period of time with Tooru that makes you remember how it all started, how you threw caution to the wind, how he managed to weasel his way into your life with every intention to stay.

There are twenty-four hours in a day. A thousand four-hundred and forty minutes in a day. Eighty-six thousand and four hundred seconds in a day.It’s time that’s ticking down until the day ends and there’s pressure because once the sun sets, your decision is going to timestamped. 

You never expected to be here in all actuality. Not in the open Staples stadium. You never expected to have stakes in teams. But, now that you had it, it’s crazy how quick something can get swiped from under your nose. Insane how you’re really about to make a determining choice under a ticking clock. Time is money. Money is the source of greed. It’s known to ruin lives. More money, more problems. Do you see the common denominator?

Your parents ensured that you and your brother would be comfortable for the remainder of your lives as long as you followed the path they paved. College, a decent white-collar job, marriage, kids, then whatever else you two desired. While your brother followed the comfortable path, you trekked away from it. It became inevitable when you had a taste of greed that was desirable enough for you to want to reach new heights. You wanted it all and you conquered.

The reality is that reigns don’t last forever. Not when people want the chair you sit on. Not when you can practically see everything crumble in front of you. Not when your values shift. The pressure is on as the clock counts down.

_Your hands are wringing together as you watch a volleyball match between two clubs in Brazil. The two of you are sitting in the stands, him wanting to take a sneak peak at the potential competition.“I have to tell you something, promise you won’t say anything.”_

_Tooru is sitting back with an arm on the back of your seat. “Okay.”_

_“You’re going to play against Japan. It’s a definitive.” You watch his eyes widen momentarily before he composes himself and focuses his attention back on the game. There’s something that flashes in his hues. A mixture of excitement and something else. Something that border-lined nostalgia because whoever Japan’s team was, he knew he’d be playing against old rivals including Tobio, Wakatoshi, and Shoyou._

_“Do you know who the starting line-up will be, yet?” A steady voice that differs from his usual perkiness. The gears in his head are starting to turn._

_You place a hand on his knee, watching his reaction carefully. “I do, Kageyama Tobio is the starting setter.”_

_Tooru smirks and nods in acknowledgment as his hand covers the one that’s on his knee. He’s been preparing for this for years, cultivating and honing his skill the best way he knew how. Trainers that were hired specifically for him. Conditioning that’s been created just for him. It’s a long anticipated moment that he’s been waiting for an equally long time._

That specific look on an his face is what sends chills down your spine. When he knows that everything he’s invested and sacrificed has finally come to fruition.

_“If you overwork yourself, you’re going to end up out for the whole season.”_

_Tooru narrows his eyes and turns around to face you who stares at him with a challenging gaze. He bites back a response before he continues practicing. As he tosses the volleyball up, his eyes widen when you smack it out of reach. “I don’t need you to babysit me!”_

_“You have rest days for a reason.” You jab at his chest and stand behind him, your foot lightly tapping behind his bad knee. “Remember this?”_

_“Leave me alone.” He spits out and jogs to grab the volleyball._

_You snatch the ball from him as soon as he’s within reach and hold it behind your back. “Get it from me, I’ll let you practice for however long you want.”_

_Tooru glares at you before he lunges for the ball as you pivot back. “Give me the ball!”_

_You grin at his annoyance and make a show in bouncing it like a basketball. “This thing is really light.” You tease and bend your knees as he stands in front of you fuming. You watch as he tries to grab the volleyball again and cross-overed him before you make a show in tossing it into the stands like you were trying to shoot it in a net. “Whoops, didn’t realize it would go that far.”_

_He’s angry, fuming and ready to lash out at you and wanting to wipe that annoying grin off your face. But, he’s matured. His times that he would spew out a slur of things he didn’t mean don’t escape his lips. Instead, he’s clamping down on his bottom lip with his teeth, eyes dark as his hand closed to a fist._

_Your grin drops. “Seriously, get the hell out of the court.”_

_“I hate you.”_

_You mock roll your eyes while you gesture to the doors. “Cry me a fucking river.”_

_Tooru shoots you a glare and crosses his arms, making no effort in leaving. “Lose the attitude.”_

_“You first.” You shoulder check him before you start walking to the door. “When you injure your knee—again—, we’ll see if you’ll keep overexerting yourself. Spoiled fucking brat.”_

_That was what got him moving. Long legs that stride over to catch up to you. “I’m not a spoiled brat!”_

_He was not going to let you have the last word and the practice was long forgotten as you two get into a childish ‘are too’ and ‘am not’ argument._

Years that he’s spent on trying to perfect himself, even to the point of over exhaustion. Time that he’s spent crying in a locker room from a devastating loss. Moments he’s spent dedicated to the sport he loves so much.There’s a difference between his look and every other athlete’s look. It’s the look of a champion. The look of a legend. The same look that attracted you to him. It’s the look that makes you realize it’s all worth it. He’s worth it.

—

There’s a flush in your face as you keep pulling at the ends of your blazer and your collar. Dry summers were the worst and even though the heat outside was so hot—you could see heat waves—the air conditioning in the building did no justice for you. You feel like the fabric of your shirt is suffocating you. It could be from a mixture of everything you’ve been feeling or it was from the dread of sitting in front of a panel who’ll be critiquing and analyzing everything you’ve done in the past five years of your job.

“Don’t say anything. Don’t agree to anything. Don’t even show any expression.” Your father murmurs. “Do you understand me?”

You pull at the collar of your shirt again before you look to the other attorney. “Can I get some water or something? I feel nauseous.”

The worst case scenario is that you’d be disbarred from law altogether. Unable to practice any type of law let alone anything sports affiliated. That was what was nerve-wrecking. Your margins of a best case scenario start to run thin with each incident the panel brings up.

The first thing they bring up is bribery and your mind is reeling with everything you’ve participated in, willingly or not.

“No substantial proof that pinpoints participation.” Your father states calmly. “Upon her tenure, the firm was already participating in illicit dealings. A new agent would have no knowledge of that and at the time, she was still finishing up her law degree at Cambridge. Motion to dismiss.”

After long deliberation, they end up agreeing to dismiss that and you exhale a deep breath of air. One down, many more to go. It seems like the hearing was going on for hours, every incident brought up only adding to your uneasiness. It doesn’t help that they’re staring at you like a lion to its prey and why is it so fucking hot in the room? How long was this going to go? Were you even going to get a moment for a recess?

You’ve long zoned out, nails digging into your palm as they bring up everything you’ve done. Documents and contracts that were redacted. Pictures and receipts of purchases and expenses that pinpointed you to each alleged misconduct. You heard down the grapevine that every agent in the firm was questioned and if they had a law license, disbarred as well as blacklisted from anything in sports management, indefinitely. Your attention zeroes back in when you hear Tooru’s name and the nausea amplifies.

“... relationship with a client whom she decided to pursue relations with after representing him.”

“Which was and is consensual.” Your father notes and slides over documents to the panel to examine. “The relationship occurred before the documents were actually signed. Refer to the time stamps of text messages, phone calls and the date of the signed contract.”

The anomaly of the panel that you suspected would counter and fight back, raises his voice. “It’s unethical for her to have continued to represent him.”

Of course it is. Like you didn’t know that and needed them to repeat it like you were some child who dove into a cookie jar even though you were told not to. He just wanted a reaction from you.

“Nowhere in the statute does it say that she’s prohibited from it. Only if the relationship had occurred after he signed on the dotted line. The first contract was... soiled.”

_Your eyes widened at the contract in his hands, darting your gaze back and forth from the janitor to Tooru._

_Tooru waves the drenched documents before he drops them in the trash with a teasing smile. “See you tomorrow~”_

Lucky. You were really fucking lucky. Incredibly embarrassed that your father knew too much information about that night, but lucky. The heat that’s been scorching your body increases by a tenfold from sheer embarrassment and the queasiness that’s bubbling in your gut. Bile that wants to travel back up your throat makes you want to reach for that glass of water in front of you until you feel the other attorney’s knee hit yours on purpose.

The ruling has you ready to retch all over the table that you luckily keep withheld from your mind being focused on the nails that were stabbing into your palm. You’re done. As the meeting wraps up, you finally slump back into your chair when everyone’s left except for your father and the other attorney. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you suddenly feel the bile that you’ve been withholding creep back up.

“You were the last one to be questioned. You got really lucky we were able to get that... piece of evidence.”

You know what he really wants to ask. Why in the hell would you fuck someone in your office knowing there’s cameras on every corner? Knowing that the doors were thin, let alone leave any traceable evidence. Exhaling a deep breath, you swallow the lump in your throat. “I don’t feel lucky.”

“You were already going to be blacklisted from sports management. This was a hearing to disbar you, you understand that don’t you? Everyone else was disbarred, you weren’t. This is a win.” The other attorney faces you.

“You should be grateful that you didn’t lose the ability to practice law. Others aren’t as fortunate.” Your father states and gives you a resounding look.

The one that makes you realize he did you a solid by agreeing to show his face and represent you and you need to appreciate it. If you wanted to be a lawyer and go to a firm—making comfortable money—you would have done that already. You didn’t want comfortable, you wanted the fast and risky money, the career that sets your soul ablaze as you stand in stadiums. You didn’t want to be behind a desk everyday reading affidavits. You wanted to stand court side and celebrate wins by popping bottles and splurging on items that you’d never look twice at. Those days were over and you had to bite the bullet. 

“Thank you.” You squeeze your father’s shoulder before you leave the room.

Guilt adds to your wave of nausea. The heat never subsided even though it should have. You came out unscathed, victorious if you looked at it from another perspective. Tooru’s career was finally on the road to the Olympics without any contingencies. As you walk outside, you start to see blotches in your vision. Was it an anxiety attack or was everything finally catching up to you? The constant stabbing in your head forces you to latch onto anything that could keep you steady as tears blur your vision.

—

Tooru’s lounging on his couch, flipping through channels before he settles on sports highlights as usual. He picks up his phone and opens the text thread between you and him, munching on a carrot stick—after his nutritionist not so kindly berated him for his stress-eating habits—as he texts you asking for your whereabouts. His attention deters from his phone when he sees a specific anchor on the channel who specializes on discussing breaking news in the sports world.

It’s about the firm you were at previously, several familiar faces are on the screen, your old assistant included. Those faces he recognizes are all agents who’ve gotten their licenses revoked indefinitely for several offenses.

He hears the door open and turns the tv off before he cranes his neck to watch you step inside. You look like shit. Your hair is all over the place, eyes are sunken in from lack of sleep and when did you ever walk around with wrinkly shirts? Most importantly, you look sick and that worries him.

Victory wasn’t always sweet and you suppose it could have been worse. The initial reaction was that you’d eventually feel relieved with your choices. You didn’t. You don’t realize how long you’ve been standing in place until you hear him get off of the couch and walk over to where you were. You were supposed to happy, triumphant even, but all Tooru sees is a blank look.

“It’s kind of rude for you to not greet me when you get home.” Tooru starts with a fleeting smile when he notes your lack of a retort.

It wasn’t about where you’d end up, but how much distance you covered and that has to count for something. How long were you intending to stay in the game anyways? Until you got old and wrinkly like the MLB agents?

You close your eyes for a moment before finally reopening them with a sigh. Your posture finally slumps as you rest your elbows on the counter. You had no issues in wiping your hands clean after coming to a realization it was the only way. Besides, it was the deal you made with your father to save your own ass before he lit the firm ablaze like he intended to do when you were ousted as a man-stealing whore. Your new issue was that there were agents with families. Individuals that were honest and true and untainted from greed. The job was their only source of income. Good people were disbarred or suspended for being associated with it. You were probably the most responsible for the illicit dealings and the fact that you were granted a hearing whereas others weren’t only made you feel worse.

“I’m not a good person.” You finally speak. “I got all these people disbarred or suspended for doing the same thing as me and then I get a slap on the wrist? It’s not right.”

When did you usually care what was right? Perhaps, when you reached an epiphany of how your love for wealth and power was the cause of you turning into someone you didn’t recognize. Someone who used to enjoy seeing athlete’s succeed to only seeing them as money signs. Agency work was a slippery slope from the fast money. Commissions that make a nine-to-five employee’s eyes bulge. From briberies to false promises. Illegal bets with privy information only you would know just so you could pocket the profit. You should be thrilled you could get it out of it while you still could. Some would even say while you were still ahead.

Tooru calls your name that forces you to look up at him. You know he can see apprehension and pain, feelings that he suspected would arise. You always wanted out, but not like this. Not at the expense of others who walked similar paths as you. Other people who’ve done nothing wrong. Just bystanders that watched other agents climb the ladder the easy way. 

“You can’t think like that.”

He could play devil's advocate in your stead. He won’t say things to placate you. Won’t whisper _it’s okay_ because it’s not okay. He’s seen the backend of how cutthroat it can be in the sports world. Fortunately, he just got to play the sport he loves while you did the dirty work. He gets to live lavish off of clean money while your dirtied hands ensured he would be set for life. He can’t lie and say he understands because he doesn’t.

But, he can tell the truth and say he’s seen how much it’s affected you. The many times he would call you in the wee hours of the morning to realize you’re still in your office. The many times he’s seen you sneak away to use eye drops on your bloodshot eyes to hide your exhaustion. Tooru’s attention never drifts from you. He recognizes the look on your face and he feels his heart tighten against his chest. You’re tired. Everything finally caught up to you.

You’re almost on the verge of retching from everything you’re feeling all over again. Nausea reoccurring from a whirlwind of emotions that continue to jut at your nerves and you close your eyes again, biting your lip to ease the emotional and physical pain. It hurts a lot more than you thought it would. Sacrifices that you’ve made countless of times for athletes, the things you’ve done to ensure they were covered on all ends. Ruining other people’s careers because if it meant the athletes you represented would remain in the leagues, then it didn’t matter if other people were hurt in the process. Perhaps, it was just karma catching up to you. Or, maybe it was just a realization that you weren’t a good person and you didn’t deserve to walk away with everything intact.

He takes your hand and rests the other hand on your cheek. “Relax.” He murmurs and pulls you closer to him. “I’ve got you.”

Countless nights that were spent with him in secret. Moments that you never wanted to end because you were lost in a bubble with him. All part of the process of everything catching up to you, but he’s like this shield to everything you feel. He’s like a barrier from the reality of the world as he sways back and forth with you to nothing but silence. You’re forced to stare up at him when he tilts your chin up. Lips press against yours, much slower and deeper as he cradles your face in his palm, wiping the silent tears that fell from your eyes.

“You didn’t tell me how horrible of a person I was.” You sniffle.

Tooru continues to wipe at your tears. “You did what you had to do. We’ll get through it.”

Maybe that was all you needed to realize that he wouldn’t tell you lies to make you feel at ease. He wouldn’t stray you in the wrong direction. He didn’t care about your net worth, didn’t care about the people you knew, because he sees you behind everything. He sees the military brat whose mother was never home. The graduate who barely passed. The person who paved the way and adapted to a lifestyle where you were surrounded by so many people but still felt alone. He knows you were in too deep with the game far before he decided to pursue you. He wasn’t ignorant to the calls from investors you would step out to. He’s heard the deals you’ve made with owners. The stakes you have in certain teams. He’s seen what you’ve done to ensure athletes had everything they needed and wanted. He’s also seen the way you’ve changed from being with him. Your increased empathy in the people around you. His wins were yours and your losses were his, he feels it all. He understands.

The tears that you kept trying to keep in, falls. Tears that keep sliding down your cheeks as your lower lip quivers against his mouth until you break into a sob. Your soul hurts as you clutch onto the fabric of his shirt, trying to stay grounded and trying to keep it together. You should be happy for him and with him, but it was at the expense of everything else. Eventually, you’d be okay and you know you would, but right now, it just hurts.

Tooru rests his chin on the top of your head as he stares out the window, still swaying back and forth in attempts to soothe you.

He hears you. He sees you. He’s with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack — Acquainted & Escape from LA by The Weeknd


	17. Step 10: Reminisce

It was never sunshine and rainbows between you and Tooru. It wasn’t even supposed to be a love story because the man had a particular agenda with you. One that included pissing you off just to see how far he could take it. He always had this mindset that this game he wanted to play with you was to just pass the time while also simultaneously getting to where he wanted to be. 

“Have you ever been to the Olympics?”

The two of you are walking down a corridor, past paparazzi and photographers. You have to practically keep your eyes pasted open and not blink. “Not yet.”

“Huh.” Tooru smirks and digs his hands into his pockets as you two walk towards the locker room where his team was meeting before the game. “And you think you can get me into it?”

You clench your jaw, keeping a leveled look because the last thing you needed was a picture of you looking like a demon in front of pretty and innocent Oikawa Tooru. “If you don’t think I can, then why’d you pick me?”

Tooru hums playfully, there’s amusement that dances in his gaze as he stares ahead. “Oh.. I don’t know... because you’re so gorgeous~”

You don’t respond and open the doors to the locker-room, holding the door open for him. You were over him and his antics, over him constantly undermining you, and you were almost at the breaking point of lobbying him over to another agent. You didn’t even want to be in the volleyball field anyways.

He turns to face you and his lips twitch into a sickly sweet smile. He’s got you where he wanted and he’s going to keep pushing until he can watch you break. Sure, you were great, but, everyone had their own breaking points and he wanted to see yours. “Is your assistant able to represent clients? I think she’s more versed in volleyball.”

“Absolutely. I’ll ensure to send your profile over to her.” You force a composed smile and nod towards the locker-room. “Best wishes, Oikawa.”

That was easy. Too easy. His eyes want to widen at how quick you gave up on him, but he doesn’t and he just nods. Closing his eyes with a grin. “Thank you!”

You don’t respond and exit the room, missing when he finally opens his eyes and his smile drops.

It’s stupid. He is literally the bane of your existence. Sure, you’ve dealt with difficult clients many times, but he’s a whole new level of self-entitled and arrogant. Constantly questioning and critiquing your ability. You get him a shoot with GQ and he asks why it isn’t Esquire. Who the fuck wants to be on Esquire when they can be on GQ? You get him a sponsored deal with Nike and he asks why it isn’t Asics. You introduce him to one of your clients, Ben Simmons, and he doesn’t even bother to listen to the athlete that’s two years his junior about things he’s learned. It’s the way he keeps pushing and pushing, and you’re convinced he’s doing it to poke at your buttons, but you’re not here to play games. You’re more than willing to pass up on a commission at this point and you’re ready to throw in the towel.

You were sitting in your office, compiling his files on your computer to send over to your assistant who seemed more than thrilled to finally get her hands wet. She knew a lot more about volleyball than you did and you were going to go for a round of drinks once the deed was done. Cheers’ing to getting rid of maybe the worst client you ever had. You’d probably buy everyone in the bar a round because you’re absolutely ecstatic.

“Good morning!”

Your gaze flits up and you bite back a scowl. Instead, you look back down at the screen and continue on.

Tooru frowns at your lack of response and takes a seat in front of you. “What’s the agenda for today?”

You don’t respond until you finally send the email over. “Liz is an expert in volleyball. She’ll be representing you like you wanted.”

He stares at you for a moment. His perkiness is long gone. “You give up that easy?”

That question was the straw that broke the camel’s back and you instantly reach over for your stress ball and squeeze it until your knuckles are white. Controlled breaths and a clenched jaw. You were about to lose your shit. The audacity. The nerve.

Tooru hums and leans forward on the desk, gaze never leaving you. He smiles coyly. “What a shame~”

“Ben Simmons will win all-star for the third time in a row. Three years under my representation.” You stand up and squeeze your stress ball again. “I have signed deals and made commissions more than your contract. You won’t find a better agent than me, but I’m not going to keep representing a fucking asshole who won’t put some goddamn respect on my name.”

His shocked expression turns into a smirk as he leans back into his chair and lets out a low whistle. There was that fire he was looking for.

“Leave my office. Liz will represent you from here on out.” Your smile is anything but sweet and you gesture to the door.

His smirk drops. “Wait, seriously?”

“Seriously.” You nod towards the door. “Bye~”

—

He didn’t expect you to wipe your hands clean so easily. It was a blow to his ego when he was meeting up with your assistant a couple days later and he sees the notorious Ben Simmons on tv accepting the all-star award for the third time as you mentioned with a statement that leaves a sour note in his mouth. 

_I want to thank my team, my family, and my agent for this award. I wouldn’t be here without them._

“Hi, Tooru! Ready?”

His attention switches to your assistant who smiles warmly at him and he instantly regrets his choices. There’s no way she was going to be able to negotiate a deal on his behalf. She looks like she never even stepped foot in a boardroom on her own. He sees you stop outside the room when a group of senior agents congratulate you on securing another bag and you grin arrogantly.

“I want her.” He states once again and glances back at Liz. “I _need_ her instead. Sorry.”

He doesn’t see her face drop, doesn’t really think into how much it wounded her ego until later on. All that was on his mind is that he was too busy trying to pluck at your strings, he didn’t realize how impressive it was to keep an athlete in the limelight of their prime for three-straight consecutive years. The stupid game he wanted to play with you wasn’t meant to affect his opportunities.

He ends up following you to your office, making sure to close the door behind him. He doesn’t make mistakes often, but he won’t make the same one twice. He wasn’t going to let you go.

“Need something?” You ask without looking up as you re-clasp the watch on your wrist.

“You.” He admits cheekily and steels his shoulders. “I won’t question you again.”

“I’m flattered.” You mutter dryly. “I don’t do this back and forth thing. You should have made up your mind on who you wanted before you even picked someone.”

He’s taken aback for a second and shifts a bit. “I won’t make the same mistakes twice.”

You finally look up at him and narrow your eyes while he just smiles reassuringly. “I don’t want to be your agent.”

Tooru’s eyes widen and he takes a step forward. His mind is reeling, trying to figure out how to sway you. The window of opportunity seems closed, but he knows how your mind works now. You invest in the people that show promise, right?

“You said I was one of the best in Argentina. Don’t you want to be in with volleyball before it becomes this worldwide sport like FIFA and FIBA?”

You shrug. “I make enough to live comfortably already. You’re a liability to me at this point and I don’t want to take a risk with you.”

“I’m worth it.” He means it. He is worth it and a part of him really hopes you’ll take this chance with him again. He’s worked his ass off to get here and he needed you to leverage him above everyone else like him.

You walk around your desk and lean against it as you stand in front of him before crossing your arms. “Maybe to someone else. Not me.”

“One more chance. I’ll prove to you I’m worth it.” Tooru offers and extends a hand with a faux confident smile that he’s no sure is coming off as genuine. In all actuality, you’re his best shot in scoring an extension with San Juan and if not you, then who? He couldn’t rack up anyone else and the fear of loss was more frightening than his love in getting under your skin. “No more undermining you.”

This transaction was when Tooru and you realized that you could never say no to him. The beginning of a new path. A partnership that would be beneficial to both of you. It’s one of those lightbulb scenarios that you would think back on and wish you had saw the signs earlier. The physical attraction was always there, but the intellectual attraction was what made you two feel so compelled towards each other. You should have known better. Should have known that it’d become a slippery slope.

You glance at his hand and reluctantly shake it. “You can shit talk me all you want after the contract is signed and we get you into the Olympics. Until then, you better treat me like a fucking queen.”

Tooru grins. “Deal.”

—

It’s riveting to see you at work, to sit beside you in a boardroom and negotiate deals on his behalf. He’s enamored by how you’re so at ease despite going neck and neck with the current owner of CA San Juan.

You’re leaned back into your chair, hands clasped together as you swivel the chair left and right, cool, calm, and collected. It’s a contrast to the tension in the room, counter offers that have been going on for the past half hour now. Reasoning and logic that keeps getting thrown back and forth between why or why not an extension with that high of a retention bonus was lucrative for Tooru. Reasoning and logic that gets rebounded because the club didn’t want to outright make Tooru the highest paid volleyball player.

“The team in Brazil’s offering a higher stipend.” You shrug and glance at Tooru. “In fact, I think USA is willing to pay more for him as well.”

Tooru can practically see the sweat from the owner of San Juan and the lawyers that are whispering to each other. He glances over at you, clearly impressed that your poker face hasn’t broke. Or maybe you’re just used to these moments of tension that’s so thick a knife couldn’t even cut it.

“We were under the assumption that Mr. Oikawa had every intention in staying with us.”

You chuckle. “Not if he’s not getting paid enough. He adds a lot of value to the team, no one even looked twice at your club until he on boarded.”

There’s a long period of silence as the lawyers wrote something down on the paper in front of them.

“Brazil’s offer still stands. The team in the US just upped their own offer by twenty-five percent.”

You were giving them an ultimatum. Making them sweat with the clock on the wall sounding like a metronome that’s signifying the importance of time and with each second that passed, the window of opportunity was closing. They had to determine if Tooru was worth it. Worth the money and of course he was, but they needed to figure out if they were able to negotiate a lower bid that kept getting shut down when you kept referencing to the other teams bids. You told Tooru to keep quiet while you negotiated and to trust the process since it was his first time in a situation like this, but noticed his fingers drumming on his thigh impatiently. He was antsy with each minute that passed. 

“His sponsored deals and campaigns also add to a value of a club. I’m sure you know that.” You add in and tick off things with your fingers. “Let’s not forget all the extra prize money from the wins he’s brought in as well.”

They’d be stupid to pass him up. To let another team bag him, but Tooru would be lying if he said he wanted to play for another club. He’s even told you if he didn’t get the exact numbers he wanted, he’d be fine. For you to keep pushing and pushing, he was starting to sweat, too. The last thing he wanted was for them to walk away from it. He’s about to open his mouth to interject until you grab his knee from under the table and squeeze. Under any circumstance, he’d be absolutely thrilled from the touch. In this particular one, he bites back a wince. A subliminal gesture to be quiet. How could he when you keep fucking talking? The owner looks like he’s about to throw everything into the trash and just call it a day and tell him to have a great career with someone else.

“I think you should be privy that he has major clout in Japan. Volleyball is becoming more widespread. It’d be a bad business move to let another club take him and you all know that.” You release your grip slightly when you notice the lawyers writing something else down.

“Let me get back to you by the end of the week.”

You break into a small smile as Tooru exhales the breath he’s been holding in. A verbal acknowledgement was all you needed and you stand up to shake their hands before escorting them to the door. When the room is only empty with you and Tooru, you walk back over to the table and respond back to a few messages.

“What if they back out?”

You don’t glance up. “They won’t.”

He furrows his brows. “Nothing’s concrete. What if they think about it and think it’s better to let me go?”

“They won’t.” You repeat and put your phone into your pocket. “Trust me.”

Tooru stares up at you and sighs dramatically, slumping back into his chair. He remembers his promise of not questioning you and just nods slowly. More to himself than you since you weren’t looking at him.

“You’re an investment. The full package. If they let you go, they’ll have to reinvest in someone else.” You place a firm hand on his shoulder. “If I knew we didn’t have room to negotiate, I wouldn’t have kept going at it.”

He couldn’t help when his gaze travels down your body for a quick second. He wonders if you think of him as the full package in other aspects.

“What is it that you say?” You chuckle, letting go of his shoulder before you reach for your iPad and documents. You hold the door open for him as he gets up and starts walking to it. “Hit it until it breaks, right?”

Tooru smirks. He’s unable to prevent himself from grabbing your chin and brushing his thumb over your lips when you stare up at him with a mirrored smirk. He practically purrs,“Muy bien.” 

There were a lot of things that built up to the appeal of being with you. A lot of actions that border-lined the definition of seducing. He wasn’t daft by any means and he wasn’t oblivious to how his actions affected you. Tooru could blame it on his flirtatious nature and his boldness, but he couldn’t justify his actions anymore when he sees someone sitting in front of your desk, playing with your fingertips while you were deep in conversation. It sparked something within him, questions that arose because you never made any indication you were in a relationship. Not that it mattered, the two of you lived in the day and age where exclusivity wasn’t really a common thing anymore and it’s not like you two ever did anything other than flirting.

The thing about you is that you were beyond intimidating. You knew three languages that you could speak fluently in. You always had this unapproachable aura around you. Like pining over someone he knew was way out of his league. Maybe it was that you always had an expensive watch on with the same cuban-link chain clasped around your neck, signifying that you had a specific arrogance to you. He’s come to find out you and your brother had matching ones that you bought each other when you both finally made it. Or maybe it was that you were someone else’s, which he found was bullshit because he’s seen your said boyfriend out with multiple women on multiple occasions, but you never addressed it to him. Not that you needed to, but he figured that you would look at least a little upset over the fact he was cheating on you. It was hard to read you anyways. So hard to read someone that never let anyone in. He’s only seen you during work hours and occasionally after work hours for drinks to engage in ‘getting to know each other’ bullshit. But, it adds to the appeal, to know you have depth to you that you don’t give up easily. Because you weren’t like the women he was accustomed to. Not like the women who were so graceful and proper. Women who were cute and what he would define as adorable. You weren’t the woman his mother would want him to bring home. Not the type to make dinner every night and clean the house while he worked. You were married to your job, tossed back shots like a sorority girl, cursed like a sailor, and fuck, your sex appeal was out of this world. 

When Tooru’s team wins in the finals, his jaw drops to the floor when he sees a lavish beach house. Beach volleyball was set up outside in the sands, a bar on the patio leading to the sectioned off beach and so many high-profile people and athletes. Models from Argentina, the States, and even Japan were present. All around him and his team, talking to them as if they were kings or something. He’s overwhelmed and it has his ego inflating like a hot air balloon.

Despite the models around him, his attention falls on you. You weren’t in flashy dresses or swimsuits like them, no. You were dressed in a plain white t-shirt with jean shorts, a gold anklet, and the usual watch and necklace. He watches you greet other people with double cheek kisses. You turn around to face Tooru and give him a wide grin with your arms outstretched as you walked over to him. “How does it feel?”

It’s like you don’t care for the models around him and your poker face was so good or maybe you never cared and it makes him irritated because he can’t get a read for the life of him. He forces a placid smile and steps forward to hug you, but he doesn’t let go when you pull away. You squirm in his touch before he lets go of you with the same smile donning his face. “Need to talk to you.”

The two of you disappear into an empty area in the beach house, on the other side that overlooks the ocean. You were so different to the women he’s usually attracted to. It’s undeniable attraction at this point because he only needs to look at you and his mind goes in a whirlwind. The damn gold chain of yours resting just above your cleavage, glistening and shining when the light of the moon catches it. His gaze that wanders to your lips countless of times.

You push yourself off the railing and turn around to lean your back against it as you stare up at him. “What is it?”

“I saw your boyfriend at a club with one of my friends. She told me that he was single.”

He’s waiting for a reaction. Anything really and when you don’t give one, he’s confused. He’d personally be livid and embarrassed and a number of other things that you clearly don’t feel.

You raise a brow. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You don’t care?”

“You’re my client. I don’t think it’s any of your concern.” You respond easily before you start to smile. “This is what you’re worried about when you should be celebrating your win?”

Tooru’s taken aback and he furrows his brows. “I was looking out for you. I just thought you should know.”

“I don’t need you to look out for me.” You chuckle and reach over to fix the collar of his button-up. “If you really must know, I already knew about it.”

“You’re into open relationships?” He murmurs in confusion as he watches you smooth the wrinkles out of his shirt. These things you do that throws him in for a loop. Your laugh forces him to look at you again.

“He’s my ex.” You respond truthfully. “I don’t do open relationships.”

Tooru nods in understanding. “Good, me neither.”

The conversation created a shift in the air. The way you look up at him with an amused smirk. His decision to act on instinct was solely out of his curiosity in if your lips were as sweet as they appeared. He can’t help himself. Couldn’t help his lips crashing into yours. Apologetic of teeth clanging against each other from sheer force. Unapologetic when you don’t break away. The shock of a spark tingling in his veins as he finally gets to taste you. Cool mint breath that has hints of the cognac you were drinking. He can’t help his tongue slipping through your mouth when you tilt your head slightly. Can’t help the small smirk that wants to form when you shift closer to him.

He’s almost gleeful when he feels your curves, a hand sliding under your shirt to feel soft skin that he’s been wanting to touch forever. He feels your lower body buck into him when he cups your ass underneath your shorts. Was he finally going to fuck you? He wanted to. Lord knows he wanted to. He would even be okay with just the taste of what’s between your legs. He would never tell you all the times he’s jacked off to the idea of you in the shower. Practically feeling you pulse around his cock. Wanting to feel the spongey ribbed-walls inside of you. Just wanting to hear you moan his name. He wonders if you think about him too. If you have times where you’ll play with yourself to the thought of him. Do you use toys? Do you imagine his dick inside of you, too?

His fingers are practically dancing around the lining of your thong when he hears laughter from down the hall and he almost chokes and bites his own tongue when you push him away so quickly, stumbling back a couple steps.

Your eyes are equally as wide, staring at him with something of regret and realization. When the line was crossed. When you finally give into this fantasy of indulgence. The both of you are just standing there, eyes locked on each other, even when a model walks up and wraps her arms around Tooru’s waist.

You clear your throat and nod towards Tooru. All emotions erased by professionalism. All honesty thrown out the window and into the ocean that was a few yards away in a blink of an eye. “Call me if you need anything. I’m going to head out.”

He watches you walk away, chest tightening slightly as his tongue absentmindedly swipes his lips. He wanted to taste you again. It was just the beginning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Guilty by Sevyn Streeter


	18. Step 11: Break It

Time is something you felt you never had enough of. Not enough time to think. Not enough time to spin the story. You didn’t realize how much time you actually had until you were sitting in Tooru’s lavish abode, staring outside his floor to ceiling windows and doing absolutely nothing for the fifth day in a row.

You were going crazy. Literally trying to find anything to do. You cleaned up, rearranged, and even tried your hand in cooking. This wasn’t the life you wanted. So bored and your body itches as if you were getting over an addiction. You missed the limelight, the parties, endless booze and cozying up with nameless people you’ve met countless of times. Your itch was the desire to continue making residual income, to actually work. To spend the twenty-four hours in a day busy without having a second to actually think. You had all the time in the world and now it felt like too much time wasted. Time that you spent reminiscing and thinking. Time spent regretting your decisions you made on impulse under a ticking clock. Thoughts that had a tendency to wander into the category of _what if_. The dangerous category that only someone with too much time would delve into. 

What if you let your assistant take the reign in Tooru’s career? She wouldn’t have became your enemy. You would have a crazy good woman agent beside you dominating the volleyball leagues. You wouldn’t be sitting in someone else’s home in a foreign country feeling like a waste of space. On the other hand, you wouldn’t have experience a love so great. A love that makes you reconsider everything in your life. The reality is that this wasn’t supposed to become a love story. It just so happened to be two people that were perfect for each other, with the same goals and the same mindset. Too perfect for each other. You never wanted Oikawa Tooru in any aspect. You didn’t want to go into volleyball because your gut feeling was telling you it was going to be a bad investment. You’ve probably only heard of him once and that was because an agent specializing in volleyball was talking about underpaid athletes. You never even knew what he looked like until he quite literally walked into your life on purpose. You never wanted to be engaged or live a blissful life of normalcy. All these things you never wanted that you would now feel lost without.

It’s a love so pure that you feel like you manifested each other. Years of working to be the best versions of yourselves so that when you finally met, it would all fall together so seamlessly and it kills you. It literally rips you apart every time you think about it. Every time you see how happy he is and it hurts that you can’t feel the same way. You can’t be happy for his wins when your loss was border lining the feeling of death. Death of your career, death of everything you worked for.

It hurts that you wish you never agreed to represent him. That you wish you never indulged in this fantasy life with him that always seemed too good to be true. Your heart clenches in anticipation as you wait for him to come home, the engagement ring suddenly feels so much heavier on your finger and you feel like you’re suffocating.

Mistakes became a common thing in your life. A mistake on moving out to Argentina when you knew you should have stayed in the States. A mistake in falling in love with him. So desperately in love that every minute with him was like heaven. Like basking in rays of sunlight, so carefree and enlightening. The prime mistake that makes you feel so heavy and broken because you should feel so blessed and at peace to be engaged to such a perfect man. To have the man of people’s dreams.

The front door opens and you shoot up from the couch, watching his smile drop when he sees your expression. He deserves the world and more. He’s been given the world and more, but at the expense of your own and you can’t blame him for your actions. You can’t blame him for your own mistakes. The tension that thickens with each anticipating moment because he knows.

Maybe he was always meant to be with someone more grounding, someone who wouldn’t mind being in his shadow. Someone that was confident enough to stand behind him, not beside him. His fiancé shouldn’t be jealous of his accomplishments. You shouldn’t envy the solidification of his career. He’s locked-in and nothing could jeopardize this brand he made for himself. Not even an injury could affect the name he’s created for himself. He’s a fucking legend and you’re bitter because it should be you. You should be the legend. The first woman agent to make millions in sports management, instead, your name fades away to being just Tooru’s fiancé and it’s sickening that you can’t find joy in that alone.

The rare moment when you wish time wouldn’t still. You didn’t want to feel your heart break and you didn’t want to see his break either. The ring starts to feel like a heavy weight that’s hurting your finger as you stand in front of him. Staring up into his brown eyes that were pleading with you to take care of his heart that he handed over to you so willingly. What his eyes emoted, you know would never leave his lips.

He waits for you to speak because he’s hoping that maybe the conversation wouldn’t fall down the path of what he thinks it’s going to be. What he _knows_ it’s going to be. He should have known this would happen. Your tendency to destroy everything remotely honest and true. You were never able to grasp that there was more to life than what you were used to. That life was meant for two.

“I’m sorry.” You force out because honesty never came easy to you. You are sorry. You’re sorry for letting it get this far and for ending this two weeks before the Olympics. You wish he would lash out at you. Yell at you, even berate you for your irrationality. A part of you hopes that he would try to talk some sense into you and tell you what you’re doing is another mistake.

He doesn’t do any of that. He just observes you place the ring on the counter. He can see the heaviness that was lifted off your chest and it only makes his heart feel the weight instead. He promised you the world and stood by it, you promised to be his foundation and broke it.

His soul is crushed like a hammer to glass. Shards that scatter and embed itself into his skin. Pain that’s radiating through his eyes. A part of him believes it would hurt a lot less if you had broke off the engagement because you didn’t love him anymore because at least that would mean it was his own fault. But, you’re ending it because you can’t be second. You see him as a wall that blocks him from your success and that hurts a lot more. That you can’t see him as your partner, that you truly believe life is better without him. You don’t see him as a confidante, you see him as an obstacle. He should have known better.

No matter how many times he’s ascertained he would be your pillar like Hajime was for him, it still wasn’t enough. The countless of times he’s shown you he could integrate himself into your world despite his distaste in fake conversations and double-cheek kisses with people he had nothing in common with. All the nights spent in deep conversation that proved he could hold you down. You only saw him as someone that was holding you back. It wasn’t enough for you. He wasn’t enough and that fucking hurts.

You broke him. You broke Oikawa Tooru and your conflict makes you want to take everything back because you see his pain. Pain that he’s been subject to so many times from the source of his own insecurities. His biggest fear was being thrown into his face by someone he put so much love into. Inferiority that he’s spent so many years succumbing to. Like a knife into a healed wound, his gut clenches as his heart constricts against his chest. He clenches his jaw while he searches for something in your own eyes. Something that he could hold on to and he finds nothing.

Despite the pain in your own heart, the feeling of suffocation subsided after your truth and you can’t apologize for that. The bitter truth echoes like a mantra. This wasn’t supposed to be a love story.

He sighs in defeat and gives you a broken smile. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double whammy. 
> 
> Soundtrack - From Time by Drake


	19. Step 12: Understand

It was supposed to be a game where Tooru could satiate his desires and whims while he pursued his career to the fullest extent. Had his pursuit went according to plan, he would have ended things way before feelings got involved. There was every intention in cutting ties with you when news broke. He was already locked in under contract with San Juan and he didn’t need you anymore, but when he saw how broken you were, how it all came crumbling down, he saw his own self when he lost in the semi-finals his final year of high school. You didn’t necessarily come from the same upbringing as him, but you were still subject to failure and he knew how devastated you were. Subsequently, he threw his plan into the wind. He stepped up and took accountability for his actions.

If the roles were reversed would he have done the same thing?

Your sacrifices in your career that he wouldn’t do because he is all too aware of how quick someone can swept away by someone better. A scandal like yours was just ammunition for the next person, in this case your assistant. He can’t blame you for being conflicted. He can’t be selfish and expect you to be able to jump forward and move on like nothing happened. Your job was part of your identity and then it was gone. Every credibility to your name erased, just like that. He’s since realized that had it been him, had he been the one to have everything gone in a blink of an eye, he’d probably self-destruct, too. Which is why he understands.

You were his ambassador to this lifestyle. You lead the way for him to be able to trek those territories on his own one day. Teaching him to control the conversations, how to cozy up with people that could propel his career further, how to force those fake smiles without his lip twitching from the strained muscles. You showed him how to maneuver this new life he chose and he has to dedicate it all to you.

It became a love that burns so wild and bright. Passion that he can’t even begin to explain. A connection that was just instantaneous. He’s never been with someone that set his soul ablaze so wildly like volleyball does.He’s never been with someone that makes him feel so alive in the same way he played the game.

But, it wasn’t supposed to be a love story. Until you decided to bend over backwards for this Japan native whose easy on the eyes. The one who’s proven to you time after time that he’s the one you can depend on. You hate that you spent your downtime wallowing in why it was wrong instead of why it was right. Too much pride that’s convincing yourself you can do it on your own, but it would be so much easier with him beside of you. Your pride that’s telling you to figure it out on your own and he can’t fight with that. He can't fight your battles for you. 

You were lost and you didn’t know how to ask for help. You needed someone to ground you in the places you needed grounding. Someone who would stand by you because your biggest insecurity was the same as his. Not being good enough. Flaws in not knowing when to ask for help. Pushing away people that only wanted to be there. You needed someone to lead the way instead, to light a torch for you to follow. 

_Tooru’s sitting on a bench with his head bowed and a cool towel over the back of his neck while he stares at the ground. How long was he going to stay stagnant for? He has an impeccable team, has the finest trainers, but he feels stuck. Unable to progress and he’s not sure anymore. Not sure if this is still what he wants to do. His passion for volleyball seems to fizzle out as he gets lost in his internal conflict._

_“You won, didn’t you?”_

_His eyes widen when he recognizes your voice and he slowly sits up straighter and nods. He can’t will himself to speak. Did everyone know he didn’t feel as passionate as he did in volleyball anymore?_

_Down the grapevine, words were exchanged about how Tooru’s wins weren’t challenging enough to him. How he basically trail-blazed through the tournament with wide gaps in point spreads that was almost laughable. As an agent, it worries someone because this lapse in judgement is when athletes get complacent. When passion turns into a job. It’s this specific moment that allows someone to swoop in and steal their position._

_“Come on. I have something I want to show you.” You nod towards to the doors and wait for him to get up. Once he does, you pluck the towel off of his neck and toss it into a bin before the two of you walk out the locker room._

_He follows beside you down the corridors and up the elevators, watching you press your badge against a reader to unlock the doors. He’s familiar with the floor he’s on, the club-level—suite-level, whatever you want to call it. Basically, the room that every person with too much money or connections would sit in to watch games. He’s only been in the room a handful of times, but it still never ceases to intrigue him at the birds-eye view of the courts below him. Everything was in view and nothing hidden from angles._

_You both stop in front of the windows. The silence from him is something you’re not really familiar with. Foreign territories that indicate he’s on a path to potentially destroying everything he worked for. “Close your eyes.”_

_He observes you from his peripheral, your attention is on the empty courts below the two of you. A part of him wants to push you away. Another part wants to run away and worry about his dilemma on his own. His rational conscience forces him to stand still and he exhales a deep breath before he closes his eyes._

_“Now imagine where you want to be.”_

_Where he wants to be? His mind keeps coming up blank, trying to reel in something—anything until his conscience forms a vision for him. Where he wants to be is a mixture of things. First and foremost, participating in the Olympics. All the faces of his rivals in front of him with a net that separates them from him. But, then he sees you. He sees you in a home that doesn’t look familiar. With that smile that sets his soul on fire because you’re hosting at said home and he sees Hajime and some of his close teammates and he sees himself beside of you._

_“Hear the crowd. Listen to the commentators and coaches in your ear.”_

_Your voice breaks that imagery, switching back towards the Olympics. The screams of fans. Commentators that are watching his plays. Sports reporters standing on the edges. The noise of a volleyball being slammed to the ground on the other side. He hears his teammates and the other team. He can hear screaming and chants from different countries. He can hear Tobio’s voice as he plays alongside Shoyou. Can practically listen to the sound of plays being called out. His fingers itch as if he can feel the volleyball in his hands._

_“Don’t become complacent.”_

_His eyes snap open when you graze his fingertips with your own before he stares out into the empty courts below him. He doesn’t respond. Hasn’t said a word since you found him. He just continues to look out of the window. The only difference is that there’s a small ember in his hues. A reignited drive that was buried within his insecurities and stress. You ease his pestering thoughts with that voice that seems to soothe like aloe to a burn. It seemed silly at first, to indulge in your little sensory tactic, but it worked and the itch returns as it tingles throughout his body._

_“Look at me.” You order to which he does._

_You catch him by surprise when you grab his chin and stand on the tip of your toes to reach up and engulf him in a kiss. One that has him dipping his head and returning the action with fervor. He didn’t realize how much he missed you and needed your touch until he didn’t have it. God, how much he missed you as his agent, to be by his side and his side alone. The things he’d do to have you by his side forever. Your resounding voice that always cleared his thoughts whenever he wanted to fall into the pits of doubt. He doesn’t realize how easy it is for his concerns and dread to wash away because of you until his body takes control and backs you into a table. Until he’s lost in the skin-to-skin contact that’s shining a light on his darkest thoughts._

“Look at me.”

Your attention that was on the engagement ring resting on top of the counter switches to him reluctantly. A ducked head as if you were scared, as if you were preparing for him to give up on you. Actions always spoke louder than words and it’s why he firmly presses his lips on yours. It’s a sense of security that he’s giving to you, opening himself so you could feed off of his energy. It makes your heart skip a beat when he wraps an arm around your waist. Makes you feel butterflies all over again when he deepens the kiss. Your knees start to grow weak and it just seems like everything was getting blurred out as you focus on him.

He owes it to you. He needs to guide you when you weren’t able to.

As his hands slide down to the back of your neck, he pulls away slightly. “I don’t want you to feel stagnant around me. Grow as you need, if I have to get to know you again, I’ll do that.”

You’re staring up at him with tears welling in your eyes as your lower lip trembles. A realization that he’s not your enemy. He’s not your rival, not a person who wants to see you fail. You don’t realize he’s pulled your head into his chest until you’re staining his shirt with tears.

Your tendency to always push when it gets tough. Pushing and pushing until he was at his own breaking point and you don’t know how many times you’re going to whimper out apologies. Apologizing for not being strong enough. Apologies on hurting him because of your own insecurities. His chin rests on the top of your head as you keep whimpering out apologies.

Tooru’s lips press against the crown of your head. The difference between him and you is that he was the one whose felt what you felt so many times, emotions that broke him down until he had to rebuild on his own. He was going to let you focus on yourself until you were ready to come back home to him, no matter how long it takes, he’ll wait.

—

Seagulls chirping and the smell of the salty ocean breeze billows around you. You’re taking in the beauty of the pacific around you, the dark blue waters with yachts lazily floating through the currents. Almost at peace. Key word, _almost_.

“What is this?” Aaron points to an item on the menu. His brows furrowed when you explained it to him. “I don’t want octopus! I just want Seattle’s finest oysters.”

You snort. “You’re so typical.”

“Hah!” Aaron grins. “Typical is ordering us a round to jumpstart the day. What do you say?”

You train your eyes on the menu. “Cognac, please.”

“No tequila?” He teases and gestures to the waiter.

“Nope.” You glance up at him. “How’s Tooru?”

“Distracted, but manageable.” Aaron watches the round of shots get placed in front of you two. “After he won gold for Argentina, he’s been incredibly busy.Making me a lot of money, you missed out.”

You chuckle softly and clink the shot glass against his before you down it. “Make sure he doesn’t overwork himself. Watch out for that knee.”

“Yes, yes. The bad knee. I’m well aware of it.” Aaron chides and peers off into the puget sound. “Two years and he’s still single. His image is still pristine and people still love him after the debacle. What did you do to him?”

Your heart skips a beat as you follow his gaze and sit back. Has it really been that long? “Other than walking out on him right before the Olympics?”

Aaron snorts to which you glare at him. “Ah, yes. I forget that you have a tendency to leave people when they need you the most.”

You don’t respond. Don’t want to indulge him in what really happened. You’ll play the villain for as long as you need, play the woman who walked out on a doting fiancé because that’s what you technically are. The woman who left a legend because you felt so inferior to him.

“It’s almost time to start looking at his contract again.” The Brit switches the subject and observes you with intrigue because he wants to see if you’ll react.

You don’t. At least not visually, but your heart is hammering away because you know what that means. He’ll be coming to the great Pacific Northwest and he’ll be in the same state as you. Anxiety that starts to creep into your finger tips as you clench and unclench your fist over and over again under the table.

Aaron smiles mischievously. You don’t need to respond, your lack of a response says it all.

—

Those couple of days past and you were sitting in a boardroom that overlooked the sound, scrolling through your phone as you waited for Aaron with your back facing the door. Apparently, the two of you were supposed to talk about one of his athletes getting signed onto your team and you had people to handle that, but you also knew Aaron was as slippery as a snake, so you opted on handling the matter yourself. You were responding to a few emails when you hear the door open and swivel the chair around, not bothering to look up from your phone. “You’re lucky I live here, otherwise I’d charge you for wasting my time.”

“How much would you charge?”

Your eyes widen at the voice, slowly looking up to meet toffee colored eyes that sparkle with amusement. Your heart is doing that thing where it skips a beat while going a hundred miles a second. Mouth is running dry and you’re sure there was that same spark as when you first met him. “What are you doing here?”

You’re such a ditz sometimes, especially when it comes to him. He’s there for the same person you were there for, and you’re stuck. Staring at him like a deer in headlights, did he get more attractive or were you just sex-deprived?

Tooru tilts his head slightly. “He’s my agent.”

_Right._ You clear your throat and stand up to greet him, kissing both of his cheeks as if he was an acquaintance. That’s technically what he was now, right?

“You look good.” He murmurs, not quite letting go of you when you try to pull away to step back. He means it in all honesty. Lips that are still pressed on your cheek, taking you in. The perfume, the scent of your hair, softness of your cheek.

“Ah, Tooru! You’re here early!” Aaron’s voice breaks the tension before Tooru finally lets you go with a lingering hand on your waist that sparked something within you.

“You told me 12:30.”

Aaron looks at the time. It’s 12:30. He glances over at you. “Lovie! I said two!”

You raise a brow. “You said noon.”

“Oh.. well. I must have double-booked. No worries.”

Tooru looks over to you where you’re shifting awkwardly on the balls of your feet. He glances over to Aaron who’s looking all too mischievous. The Brit stares back at him with a wide grin. A knowing grin. He did this on purpose.

“I gotta go.” You break the silence and give a cordial smile to Tooru. The last thing he said to you was to grow. To be the same person he fell in love with and when you were done with that, he’d be there. Were you there yet? You couldn’t answer that right now. “It’s good seeing you.”

“Lovie!”

You pause and turn back around to Aaron. “Bub.”

“I actually triple-booked. Do you mind accompanying Tooru to Bellevue?”

“I don’t work for you.” You quickly respond and dig your hands into the pockets of your thermal.

“Yes, but it’s just a favor.” He smiles easily. “Drinks on me?”

Fucking Brit always knew how to sway you. You glance at Tooru whose face is completely indifferent and look back over to Aaron who’s looking at his watch impatiently like he wasn’t the one who conveniently triple-booked himself. “Okay.”

“Wonderful! I’ll send you the information. Thank you big boss.” Aaron teases and kisses your cheeks quickly before he leaves the room.

Tooru’s not stupid. Aaron didn’t double or triple-book, but he doesn’t say anything and follows behind you to the parking garage, checking you out while you’re making a call. Big boss? Were you back in? It sounds like it. But what you were saying doesn’t necessarily sound like agent work jargon. You’re talking about who’s going to be starting and who’ll be benching. Talking about numbers that don’t make sense for it to be about a contract.

He’s not going to question it. He doesn’t really have a place to, but he knows that this is like deja vu. You were dressed casual for the most part, in black lululemon leggings and a thermal because the Pacific Northwest’s weather was never kind, not even during off-season and it throws him for a loop because he’s convinced he’s been in this exact situation before. Many years ago when he first met you, that same emotion of interest and unspoken questions. When you unlock the door to your car, he can’t help but be thrown by how well off you are now. It’s not like you never were, but there’s something to you that makes him believe you’re in a good place in your life. Something that makes him realize you spent this time away from him doing exactly what he’d hope you do and that was to find your footing again.

Tooru stays in a state of reminiscing as he sits in the passenger in silence. Deep in his thoughts while he takes in the surroundings, you included. For the most part, you still looked the same, but there was something to you. Like years of stress ridden from your features. A vibe of easy confidence he gets from you by your demeanor and he can’t help but to stare at you, uncaring if you notice him blatantly checking you out.

“There’s a lot of traffic, do you want to listen to music?” You were stuck in bumper to bumper traffic on the interstate due to rush hour going up north and it's starting to feel stuffy in the vehicle. The silence was overbearing and you weren’t really sure what to talk about. A part of you wants to believe he meant what he said, but you weren’t even sure if he was open to that anymore. A lot happens in two years. Him winning gold. Him becoming a debatable goat. Him having to handle life by himself and doing it so eloquently.

Tooru chuckles and takes in the scenery. “What are you, an Uber?”

You grin.

“How’d you get back in?” He’s curious, observing you while you drive through traffic. He wonders if you’ll indulge him or if you’ll blatantly lie.

“I’m not.” You respond cautiously and glance at him. “I own the new basketball team here.”

Tooru chokes on his spit, graciously accepting the bottle of water you handed to him. That makes a lot of sense.

He’s impressed. It made sense on why you sold your condo in Buenos Aires, he was just confused on why you couldn’t tell him all of this. A part of him questions himself on if he really want to go back down the path of opening the closet full of the skeletons you both shared. His lack of response has you glancing over in his direction, locking eyes with each other that has both of you breaking into a contagious smile. He can’t be mad, not when he sees that you’re where you wanted to be. Owning a team, sitting pretty on the board of executives that overlooked the NBA league, respect that was earned once again. He didn’t need you to explain how or why you made your decision, he knows. You were going to be stagnant if you didn’t make a move. Those private calls you made, the unexpected trips, why you were so close with the owner of the Lakers. He knows why you didn’t involve him. You didn’t want to leave him. You wouldn’t be able to if you involved him.

When you two finally arrive to the restaurant, he’s following you back to the patio. The silence wasn’t necessarily as awkward anymore, but as you perused through the menu, you just weren’t sure what to bring up.“Do you know who you’re meeting here?”

He blinks and looks around. “No, he just said someone important.”

You have a tendency of not responding anymore, especially when it didn’t really concern you. A lesson learned to stop interjecting yourself into a topic that you had no business in being in. Instead, you stare at the menu as if you were reading it when you really weren’t. It’s incredibly nostalgic to be here with him. Despite that, his presence alone was comforting to say the least and you didn’t want to ruin the moment. Didn’t want to say the wrong thing to shift the vibe. Maybe, if you had reached out earlier, when the wounds were still fresh, it wouldn’t be as pretty, but he would always handle those situations with grace. That alone only made it more clear that you were the only one who came up with excuses. Who made him handle calling everyone about the postponed until further notice wedding. Who left him to pick up broken pieces of what was left of the relationship between you two. Despite that, he never said a thing. Just told you it was handled and that he loves you. You glance up and notice he’s been staring at you in a daze and he never looks away, just smiles that charming smile. That dreamy smile that’s always been intoxicating. The same one that has you feeling like a giddy and hopelessly naive teenager.

“Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?”

“Even after I left you?” You can’t help your own question. His smile never drops and you start to get a wave of feelings that you’ve suppressed for a long time.

“You did what you had to do.”

He was always the piece that completes you. Maybe the only one who ever truly understood. The only one who had the same priorities and would have done the same thing as you in this situation. He’d be a hypocrite if he forced you to choose between him and your career, since he’s been in that position so many times. Which is another reason why he understands and it’s why he can’t even be upset with you. Disappointed in himself maybe, but never angry at you. Not when he realizes how happy you look when you’re not spiraling out of control.

“It’s less hands on. I own the team but everyone else usually handles the rest.” You start slowly. “I guess you can say I’m just the one who tells people how high to jump.”

It’s weird being on the other end of the spectrum of sports management, where all you do is make calls and let others handle it. Very seldom did you ever even dug your nose into the nitty gritty since you’re just delegating decisions and talking to the GM and Coach who handle the downstream logistics. There’s another level of your words, a different meaning to it and you’re not sure if he’ll respond in the way you hope or even if he understands it. But, you’re testing to see if the doors are still open. You wouldn’t be surprise if he shut it down. If he shrugged it off or even if he didn’t respond because you couldn’t expect him to still want to be with you after two years.

“I’m not even surprised you managed to weasel your way back into sports management.” He teases, laughing when you fake a glare at him.

“When you have enough money and people to back you, they’d be stupid not to let me in.” You huff and cross your arms. You can’t help the small smile that grows from his laugh that sounds like a melody. “Gold, huh?”

Tooru nods, picking at the food in front of him. “Argentina’s first gold since the 90s.”

He may or may not be humbly bragging. He has every right to, though. You watched the match while you were busy with your acquisition and was incredibly impressed by him and his team. You watched when his team won gold and he tried his hardest not to cry. A part of you hopes it was just from joy and not from him wishing you were there. Hoping that he wasn’t crying because of realization he was supposed to get married the month after because you sure as hell did. You cried like a fucking baby for months.

“Impressive.” You smile softly when he looks back up at you.

Tooru hums. “Impressive is your team winning the championship the first year established.”

“You paid attention?”

Tooru lifts his hands in good gesture. “Everyone talked about it!”

You can’t help but to have a look of pride as you laugh fondly, vividly remembering the shock and the excitement you felt. Who would have thought that you’d come back full circle with the same man you met years ago. Feeling the same feelings you felt for so long every time you’re around him. The sense of ease that keeps floating around you two as you both sit outside on the patio overlooking Lake Washington. The cool breeze of the northwest that calms and cools the heat in your body from being in front of him. “Do you miss me?”

He smiles gently and doesn’t miss a beat. “Everyday.”

Is the door still open? It makes your heart skip a beat as you sit back in your chair to appraise him. It’s like music to your ears. A song that you’d never want to stop listening to. Those sparks that are lighting embers that have been blanketed for so long. “Do you love me?”

“Never stopped.” He admits and winks playfully that makes you laugh. “Do you love me?”

Of course you do. How could you not? He's nothing short of perfect. Nothing short of being that doting lover who always understood you better than you understood yourself. You nod. “I do.”

“Maybe it’s time you finally come home, then.”

The door _is_ open, it’s always been. Home was always with him and you can’t help but break into a wide smile as he grabs your hand from across the table. Can’t help but to exhale that breath you’ve been holding in. To pick up where it left off, it always felt right with him, so complete when there wasn’t anymore adversaries.

“I agree.” You squeeze his hand and grin. “But, my team-,"

“Can’t you just do video calls? You don’t necessarily need to show up unless it’s at an owner’s meetings, right?” He smirks. “And don’t you call the shots?”

You’re lovestruck in all honesty. Stuck on stupid or something because you’ve just been staring at him like lovesick puppy. Not even comprehending what he's saying until he squeezes your hand with that same smirk. “I do... I guess we can figure it out.”

“We always do.” He clarifies and kisses your knuckles.

When you two were finally locked-in to your own careers. Self-aware of what your own selves were lacking in and peace with where you were at. It’s when you realize that he’s been your person. He’s always been your person. The one that was made for you because it’s insane how he can just understand you. How he practically knows your thought process and how you two can just bounce off of each other’s energy so seamlessly. A love that was so pure and genuine that it knocked both of you off your feet. A love that neither of you wanted to give up. Because how he was made for you, you were made for him. The one who grounded him, who showed him that life was made for two. He never wanted to feel tied down and with you, he felt anything but that. He’s felt love, excitement, risk, and everything in between. He’s always loved you, loved your ambition and your drive. Loved how easy it was with you when everything was in place. Most importantly, you came home to him and that meant everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all need someone like Tooru. I just hella HC him as this guy who's so in-tune with his emotions when he's older, lol. Also peep the twitter quote (LOL) I found that I just found soooo fucking beautiful. It made me cry :( "Grow as you need, if I have to get to know you again, I'll do that." 
> 
> Soundtrack - Own It by Drake and Sparks will Fly by J. Cole


	20. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking this journey with Tooru! Slight plug to my Tumblr if you guys wanna chat @kswishh, lol. I do HCs, Scenarios, imagines, all that jazz on there.

Why did Tooru try so hard when he was usually the one to wipe his hands clean first? Why didn’t he cut ties when you left him the same way he would leave someone else when the stars weren’t aligned? It’s not as simple as one would think. What others see on the surface level, he sees the depth.

Capitalism corrupted your mind until there was nothing left of substance to yourself except greed. It’s why Tooru emphasized on you finding yourself again. Find the person you used to be or become someone new. It was your world, he just wanted you to thrive in it and cut the chains tied to wealth because if he didn’t, he’d end up losing you to it later on in life. He wanted you to control your own narrative and it’s why he took that step back. He saw an old piece of himself in you, the desperation in being the best. That desperation that eats away at all morality and conscious decisions until you’re left with nothing but a corpse. Who are you? You didn’t have an answer to that two years ago and he couldn’t be the one to tell you.

How is he supposed to explain it when no one else knows? The dark truth of ambition. That double-edged sword of wanting to prosper. Up in the hills, in a home that was too big for you to live in by yourself. When you’re whimsically overlooking the puget sound, is when he sees you for you. 

Vulnerability and honesty. All virtues that he catches through your distant gaze. You have everything you could have ever wanted. You live in the western region in a modern home with high-end finishes. A home with too many rooms for just one person. You have everything you ever wanted, but nothing you needed. 

You’ve rebuilt yourself into someone everyone would be proud of. The alumna that donated way too much, a successful daughter that your father can finally brag about on the golf course, the auntie that gave tickets to the most hyped-up games, and the owner of a national team. Despite all of those titles, nothing you had eased the emptiness in your soul that only contained burnt ashes of a once lively fire.

Again, in another foreign environment that he’s not sure how to maneuver through, he steps through the room towards the deck as if he were walking on glass. There’s something different to you that he wasn’t able to pinpoint when he saw you. You played it so well, played the happy person with no skeletons person just as well as he used to. But, this time, he feels a draft of loneliness. An unspoken question that wafts through the home full of expensive art and windows. Dust particles on furniture that hasn’t been touched or sat in for a long time. Words that sit on the tip of his tongue. _Was it worth it?_

“You’ve done well for yourself.”

He won’t ask the unspoken question, it’d be too cruel. But, you could take the cruelty, couldn’t you? Your skin has always been thick. Fortunately, he’s no longer the spiteful man that finds joy in a simple _I told you so._ He watches you turn around to face him with a small smile. A tired smile that houses all your thoughts. The upturn of your lips that already knows what he wouldn’t ask. An expression that doesn’t need to be verbalized. _It wasn’t worth it._

“Thank you.” Your response is curt while you nurse the drink in your hand.

You worked towards a dream that you didn’t necessarily want anymore. Succeeded and thrived whilst achieving a goal you used to care for. When realization hit you that what you needed was the person you left in Argentina, your pride was too swole to admit it. As a result, you diverted your anger and stress into the foundations of what you have now. A part of you feels like a child that wasn’t able to make up their own mind. Like a kid who kept running in zig zags because of internal conflicts. You wanted Tooru, then you wanted your career, then you wanted the prestige and it went in zig zags for so long until you hit a wall. This world you fought so hard to stay in was a glass house full of likeminded people who were equally as lost. Until you found yourself.

Taking a trip down memory lane through the roads of your hometown, at least what you considered home. It makes you reminisce on the days where you had different dreams. Taking it back to simple days where you found joy in childish things that didn’t leave impacts on the people around you. You found yourself in front of a lively home and it would seem almost creepy for a grown adult to be staring at the kids in the front yard running around. Until your gaze lands on your brother’s wife whose holding the door wide open for you with a warm smile. There’s more to life than living alone in a lavish home that’s empty. More to life than experiencing all the riches the world has to offer alone. To love and be loved. To need and be needed.

An epiphany of truth had hit you like diving into ice water, you had everything you worked for, but you just wanted love. Real love. The love that has you crying from an overflowing abundance of joy and happiness. Those emotions that made you feel full. The type of love where you could still be behind on mortgage, but it didn’t matter because you were so happy and drunk off of love alone. The love that filled in every crack and void. You want the white picket fence with the kids running around. You want the doting spouse who you’ll never fall out of love with. You have the foundations already. Your kids would never have to struggle a day in their life. You had a man who willingly chooses you over and over again. It doesn’t need to be hard, so why do you keep making it more difficult?

Tooru stands beside you, admiring the view for awhile as the both of you stand in silence. Silence that wasn’t necessarily awkward, but silence that you both found solace in to think. He can hear the waves crashing into rocks in the distance, can almost make out the sounds of the planes in the skies above flying to the airport, but most importantly, he’s listening to your breathing. Breaths that constitute he’s actually with you again, that it’s not a part of his dreams anymore and he’s scared. Because dreams are figments of an individual’s imagination, able to be construed and morphed into wants and desires. He’s fearful because reality always has a tendency to throw a curveball. He’s not sure where your head’s at and if you’re going to change your mind again.

“I should have reached out sooner.” You pause and he doesn’t know if you’re grimacing from your words or the burn of the cognac down your throat. “I wish I did. You’re too good for me.”

You’ve said that countless of times. _He’s too good for you_. It makes him want to chuckle because he’s used that same statement countless of times to other people. Used the same excuse to rectify the ill-sounding statement of _it’s not you, it’s me._

“I was scared if I did, that you wouldn’t want me anymore.” You admit, finally turning your head to meet his gaze. “I thought it’d be easier for there to be no closure than to face the possibility you moved on.”

He’s taken aback for a moment. Floored by your candidness. Honesty never came easy to you, and it’s enlightening to see how easy it rolls out of you.

“I don’t think that’s your choice to make.” He responds and brings the IPA to his lips, appraising you like you would him.

“How are you so perfect?”

He wouldn’t go that far despite how everyone portrays him. The days of trying to be perfect were long gone. Thrown into the pacific coastline of the Miyagi prefecture. He finally breaks the ambience of seriousness with a laugh. “Me?”

He has flaws like anyone else, but it boosts his pride to know you see him in that form. You see him as perfect.

“It’s like you were made for me.” You admit alongside a coy smile, nudging his shoulder gently.

_Made for you._ Tooru lifts his eyebrows before he smiles softly. “What if I was?”

The two of you are still facing each other. A small challenge of who’ll make the first move or who’ll be the first to shut it down. Tooru’s been clear of his intentions since you’ve left. Just grow up and let him be the one to figure out if he still wants to be with you. You, on the other hand, were all over the place. He was confused for the longest part, trying to be that foundation for you, that grounding figure to help you and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough because you didn’t even know how to help yourself. He’s hoping you found that clarity and that you’re finally where you need to be.

You step forward almost cautiously as your fingers brush his cheek. He’s staring down at you with a bated breath and you hesitate more times than you can count. Your lips are hovering over his as if you were waiting for him to change his mind. Waiting for him to tell you that he didn’t want you anymore. He never does, just patiently waits because he wants you to take the leap this time. It’s your turn.

You close that distance, tasting the pale ale on the tip of his tongue, smelling the scent of his cologne, feeling his hand that’s pushing into the small of your back. It’s incredibly nostalgic, but it’s everything you missed. Senses fall into familiarity when you back him against the railing, your fingers splayed over his cheek, head tilted to slightly to deepen the kiss.You don’t even realize he’s taken the glass from your hand and placed it on the closest surface until he’s rubbing circles into your back, coaxing you closer until you’re chest to chest.

Neither of you have any intentions of breaking away, no intentions of breaking out of this spell. Tooru’s in a trance as your palm on his cheek slides down to his shoulder, gripping it when you stand on the tip of your toes. He was always a looming figure over you and he smiles softly from how you’re trying to reach him. He’d dip his head for you under any other circumstances, but he’s making you work for it now. Work for him.

It’s not clear who broke for air first. His arms wrap around your waist as he rests his forehead against yours. Those eyes he fell in love with are peering up at him through full lashes. Your eyes that are compelled to him and only him.

“I love you, Tooru.”

It sounds like music to his ears. A ballad that has him kissing you more fervently. Actions always spoke louder than words and it’s why he’s lifting you up into his arms. You’re an ocean he wants to get lost in. Through tidal waves and and rough currents, still waters and lazy streams, he wants it all. He wants to feel your ocean, wants to wade in those waters for the rest of his life.

“Show me how much you really love me.”

The coil that’s building keeps intensifying with each touch, every-time his lips mesh against yours in tandem as he feels your skin underneath your clothes. Supple flesh that burns from every place he’s touched. The cool breezes of the north west did little to quell the nerves. Tooru’s touches are like embers that has you anticipating the specific fire of him becoming one with you again.

—

It’s the little things that made you fall in love with him so easily. The forehead kisses and the light grazes on your back when he’s around you. Physical touches that warms your soul from each electrifying shock. Warmth that radiates from his body as if he were your blanket when you’re laying next to him. Even to his childish tendencies when he’s not getting enough attention that border-lined more humorous than adorable. Childish tendencies that turned into provocation because he knows exactly how to string at your chords. Teasing smiles when he strips out of his clothes in front of you before he casually walks into the bathroom with you following him like a lovesick puppy because the only thing you want is to have him inside of you.

The little things mattered most to you. How he can still excite you with playful banter. The sexual attraction that never fades. Everything that you looked for was all encompassed by him. 

Tooru’s a firm believer that you get what you put in. He takes care of you and you take care of him, and that you do. It’s the promise he made to take care of you and help you to understand that life has much more to offer. A promise he made to you to show that experiencing life together was much better than being alone. He’s kept his promise. Spoiled you with experiences that you would never find elsewhere or alone. He spoiled you so often it became all you knew.

So, it only made sense for you to start this new chapter with him. Again. To get married at a venue with all of your closest friends and families. To walk down the aisle beside your father who proceeds to clasp Tooru’s back with a straight-lined statement that sounds like a threat from his tone. _I know you’ll take care of her._

It doesn’t deter him anymore though, not when he realizes the moment has finally come. Tooru’s a crier and when he sees you in your wedding dress with twinkling eyes and a gorgeous smile, he can’t help his quivering lip. Can’t help shifting slightly with his hands in front of him as he tears up because who would have ever thought he’d finally be here. Dreams that turn into reality. Fantasies that don’t even sparkle as bright as this truth he knows.

His vows that made you want to cry. Your vows that made him bawl before he had to toss his head back and stare up at the ceiling before laughing breathlessly. Laughing because he’s really crying in front of everyone in the venue. Laughing because he’s overflowing with happiness. It causes everyone to chuckle and smile with him. And then to finally kiss you. To finally have you as his wife. It’s breathtaking. Like an array of fireworks that were set off and he can’t find himself to pull away as everything tunes out. Until you break apart and smile up at him with so much love and affection that his heart going wild.

It’s a night to remember for everyone. Your best friend was throwing it back on one of Tooru’s teammates who looked like he was about to have a heart attack. Endless booze as Aaron keeps cheers’ing to everyone because if the Brit is in attendance, everyone’s getting wasted. Your father is sitting next to Tooru’s as they share a drink, smiling and bonding over stories. Your brother whose _driving the boat_ with Makki pouring liquor into his mouth straight from the bottle like no one’s business. His other teammates who are filled to the brim with so much reposado that they change the song to dance to bachata—Iwa included—. Pictures upon pictures from the photographer that are being taken when you show up to the reception that has Tooru about to break his neck and cry some more.

He swears you haven’t stopped smiling since he saw you for the first look. All smiles and laughters when your bridesmaids and his groomsmen proceeded to down a shot of tequila with you and Tooru for ‘picture purposes’. It still captivates him on how compelling you are, how you’re immediately jumping into the crowd and following the dance. How your eyes travel to him and you give him that sultry eye look. The one that brings him to you. To dance with you as his mind spirals out of control because all he can think about is the things he wants to do to you. And as the music changes to something else, he’s catching your movement as you dance on him and sing the song that’s playing to him between laughter and grins because he keeps kissing you and smiling and he can’t see anyone else around him because his eyes are on you. Only you.

Then, the plane ride where you two are in a private jet and you’re bouncing up on and down on his cock. Trying to contain your moans because the pilot is just behind that closed door and the stewardess is in the back of the plane and he just doesn’t care because he’s guiding your hips, making you grind on top of him.

The awkward thing about joining the mile high club is having to make contact with the stewardess whose heard everything and more. Tooru, who has perfected his facade, merely sips at his drink as he watches volleyball highlights off his phone. He puts his drink down and rests a hand on your knee, seemingly occupied as the stewardess refuses to meet your eye.

It’s not like you really want to look at her either. Your dignity was halfway out the window as you shift in your seat and you tried to do the cordial smile that she doesn’t quite return. It’s a a good thing she signed a confidentiality agreement because it’s going to be a long flight and Tooru’s hand creeping up to your thigh only means you’re not getting any sleep for the rest of the duration of the honeymoon.

—

“You’re being held to a higher standard than others, but you know that. I don’t need to remind you to be cognizant of the people around you.” Aaron speaks calmly as they walk through the corridor to where the press conference is taking place.

The press conference in question is the one that’s precluding to his induction into the hall-of-fame and he’s floored. No matter how many times he’s dreamt of being prolific, his dreams never prepared him for this exact moment. It’s almost like a flash of memories that hit him with each step he takes towards those double doors where reporters and his coach and trainers are waiting. His dreams that started to feel like a reality when you mentioned he was probably going to become a nominee if he won gold for Argentina and he remembers the anxiety that crept up from those words alone. The pressure that was only becoming to build on himself because that was years ago. A pivotal moment in his career that only jump started this fire for him.

_Tooru’s head whips over to you in shock, his eyes are as wide as dinner plates as he tries to comprehend what you just said. “You’re serious?”_

_“I’m sure. I’ll get you there if you put in the work.” Your legs were propped up on your desk while you tossed a stress ball back and forth between your palms. Even though your visual attention wasn’t on him, you still managed to chuckle at how innocent he sounded. Like a doe-eyed child that was told he was going to be Superman when he grew up._

_The setter in front of you is staring at you, unblinking, like an owl. Stuck on how confident you sounded in him being in the hall-of-fame and he can’t help but to wonder if you’re feeding him lies or if you mean it. There wasn’t a reason to doubt your words, everything you’ve promised implicitly or explicitly coming into fruition one way or another. It’s not like you had any reason to lie to him anyways, you’ve made it clear from the beginning you had no intentions of saving his feelings and he’s been completely receptive to everything you’ve told him. Absorbing everything you’ve said and didn’t say like a sponge because the last thing he wanted was for you to give up on him._

_“You really think I will?” He doesn’t believe it. What athlete wouldn’t want to be in the hall-of-fame? It’s like a memorabilia that he’d cherish for the rest of his life. To just be noticed for all of his skill and work, but it seemed so far away. Like a dream that was merely a fantasy._

_You finally put your whole attention on him and toss the stress ball towards him, grinning when he catches it with ease. “I’m not repeating it again. Have more faith in yourself.”_

Tooru nods in understanding with a small smile from the memory that overcomes him. He’s come to acknowledge that belief in himself and not what he was lacking in is what got him here. About to do a press conference before he’s formally inducted amongst retired athletes and keynote speakers. The doors where everyone is waiting for him grows larger with each step closer. Similar doors that remind him of his first pregame conference during the intercontinental tour.

_Tooru brushes a strand of hair out of your face. The two of you are tucked away in a hallway with you reading something he needed to bring up regarding the win of the intercontinental tour. He was listening, but he was also enraptured by you as always. So, while you were speaking to him as his agent, he was listening to you as his lover._

_You finally look up at him while he’s twirling a strand of your hair, bringing it to his nose with a twinkle in his irises. “Are you listening to me?”_

_Tooru hums and leans forward to peck your lips. “Yes, say something meaningful, thank my coaches and trainers, and don’t answer any questions that are open-ended.”_

_You huff despite a smile growing, reaching to fix his suit-jacket. Without releasing the hold on the lapels, you pull him back down to your lips. “And?”_

_“And...” Tooru purses his lips, pouting because he wants another kiss._

_“Pay attention, baby,” you tease against his lips. “Acknowledge the rookie setter you played against. The kid looks up to you.”_

_His lips are still pursed, waiting for you to kiss him and when you do, he breaks into a wide grin. “Got it.”_

_You pat his chest firmly and turn him around to where the press conference was about to be held.“I’ll be watching. No funny business.”_

_“I know, I know~” Tooru lifts his hands in good faith as he walks towards the door. He pauses and glances back at you before he smiles confidently._

“You look distracted. Did you even relax any?” Aaron asks dryly. What kind of question is that? Tooru’s about to open his mouth when Aaron shakes his head quickly. “Don’t answer that. Take a second to compose yourself. I’ll stall.”

He watches as Aaron steps inside the room and exhales a deep breath. Deja vu is what it feels like. Stepping into a lions den years ago with you teaching him how to answer questions, flip the script, and control the conversations. Now, he’s doing the interview that he could probably do in his sleep. There’s a lot of things he feels, a sense of _finally_ being one of them because it seems like every trial and tribulation he’s undergone has brought him to this exact moment.

“Am I late?”

He sees you peek around the corner with a small smile. Your smile that makes him feel at ease regardless of whatever else he’s feeling. His heart that’s swelling from you and only you and he breaks into a grin that’s full of relief. A soft laugh escapes his lips and he outstretches his arms for you to come to him.“Thank you for coming.”

Leave it to Tooru to thank you for being a decent human being. It makes you remember how many times he’s been disappointed by expecting the bare minimum out of people. A clear reminder that all he really needed was for someone to just stand by him while he handled the rest. Out of a list of things he could say, he thanks you instead and you rush into his arms, staring up at him with absolute adoration. “It’s your day. I’m here to support you.”

God, he’s such a softie. There’s tears that are pricking his eyes. Simple words from you that solidifies you’re all he needs. He’s the legend that fans look up to. A sports figure that became the talk of all the Americas when he won gold for Argentina for the first time in almost two decades. The trailblazer that’s paved the way is crying over you actually showing up. He can’t help his emotions at this point. Emotions that are ranging from victory to appreciation and love to relief. He just wants to keep thanking you. Thanking you for believing in him, for not giving up on him, and for loving him when he was so doubtful of himself.

For a second, he recalls when he was in middle school, overworking himself to the extent of exhaustion when he realized he wasn’t the prodigy like Tobio was. Another memory from when he loses his last game in high school to the underdogs. The final recollection during the Olympics when he was sure his team was going to lose to Japan.

_Almost as if time slows down, Tooru watches the libero on his team lunge for the ball, his vision zeroed in to set it if the libero was able to make contact with it. His heart is beating erratically, everything was tuned out except for the constant thumping through his ears. He needed to make that point, he needed to win. He needed to prove to everyone that invested so much effort into him that he was worth it, that everything he worked for was worth it. But, another part in him is telling him that it was over. That him and his team played the best they could, but his rivals would always be superior to him and he needed to be content with that._

_The time that slows to a halt when he vividly remembers every moment he’s spent with you. From the talks in the locker rooms, to the first time he’s seen you so engrossed in his matches. Every amazing play he did had you looking as proud as you’d be watching the athletes you represented in NBA when they made equally amazing, heart clenching goals and plays. The way you cheered for him with your fist clenched as you jumped out of your seat from where you sat court-side when Tooru’s team won in the intercontinental tour that qualified him for the Olympics. The tears you shared with him when his adrenaline faded and the confetti falling from the ceiling indicated the game was over and he’d be playing for Argentina as promised by you when you first agreed to represent him._

_It’s what gave him the extra boost he needed to make the game winning play, setting the ball at a perfect angle that his teammate spiked it so quickly without even giving Japan a moment to comprehend the play. And then time goes back to normal when he hears Argentina being shouted through the crowd and the look of shock and defeat on Shoyou’s and Tobio’s faces. Tooru’s own eyes are wide and he’s stuck in place as his teammates start to cheer around him. Argentina’s playing in the gold-medal match against Brazil._

Tooru stares down at you, finally coming back to the present and he sniffles slightly. “Thank you.”

He wants to thank you for everything, but it would take years to thank you for everything you’ve done. You’ve invested in everything to ensure he reached his end goal. It makes him realize that you never did it for the money with him. You didn’t care about stepping foot into FIVB. You ensured the best trainers, the best nutritionists, and the best sponsorships for him. From all the times you’ve listened to him when he was the worst version of himself to taking him down a notch when he’d be on his power-trips.It was always for him. You never had a personal gain and you’ve made it clear countless of times. You took a leap of faith in him and he promised that your faith wouldn’t be misguided.

He’s dominated the volleyball leagues, opened doors for volleyball players’ pays to be renegotiated, made people actually want to watch the games the same way they watched football, American football, and basketball. He’s paved the way for people to follow suit, showing that it _is_ possible for Oikawa Tooru from Miyagi to become the greatest of all time—which is debatable and is debated often on TNT and ESPN. Most importantly, he’s known throughout all the continents as a pioneer and he thanks you. He’ll keep thanking you, over and over again, for as long as he lives.

“I’m so proud of you.” You whisper, brushing away his tears that traveled down his cheeks as he instinctively leans closer towards you before you fix the strands of hair that fell in front of his face. You always made sure nothing was out of order, always ensured that this legendary athlete wouldn’t be subject to specks of lint or stray hairs. Time stills in that specific moment, almost like a rush of memories play in both of your heads. Memories that wash over both of your senses as you both take in the long awaited moment.

_You run over to him onto the court, flinging your arms around his neck as you laugh joyously after he was named MVP of the season. Technically, you weren’t surprised since you already had a feeling he’d be, but you still couldn’t help the excitement that overcame you when they announced it and when he accepted the trophy. “You’re the fucking goat!”_

_Tooru grins and twirls you around, he presses his sweaty forehead against yours, laughing breathlessly with you. “I love you.”_

He tilts his head up to stare at the ceiling, blinking away more tears as he sucks in a breath of air. After a few seconds, he looks back down at you and cups your cheeks, kissing you deeply.

_“I promise to be your confidante and the person who’ll stand by you and help carry the weight on your shoulders. I will fight your battles with you and I will love you. You’ll never have to say goodbye anymore.”_

_You’re tearing up, staring up into Tooru’s eyes as he smiles gently at you through his own tears. He squeezes your hand gently as the ordain speaks, mouthing out that he loves you and you mouth it back. These promises that he made to you. These promises that he never broke, it only adds to all the raw emotions of love and genuine happiness that you feel. Barely able to comprehend what’s happening next because he’s kissing you so deeply that everything’s blurred out. You don’t register the cheers and whistles from the guest, don’t even realize Hajime was tearing up on the side from the vows. All you can understand, feel, and see is Tooru._

It’s breathtaking and it still makes your knees weak as he holds you in place, smiling in the kiss when you feel his lips twitch upwards. It has you never wanting to break away because only with Oikawa Tooru, does everything make sense.

“The conference is starting soon, mate.” Aaron’s voice breaks the bubble you two are in. He glances at you and nods. “Let’s go.”

You push at his chest firmly and give him a leveled look that has him snapping into place despite a gummy grin donning his face. “Control the narrative.”

If he doesn’t, who will?

“Always.” Tooru smiles cheekily and kisses you once more before you fall in line beside of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to create a fic that highlighted Tooru in a more developed light if that makes sense. He's def one of the haikyuu dudes that I believe would be more mature and have their shit together post canon. With this fic, I was def stuck between whether it should've been Atsumu or Tooru, but I stuck with Tooru solely based on the fact he lives in South America and it would've been easier to integrate the reader's story based off of that alone. 
> 
> I had a lot of fun with this story and it's actually the first story I've finished in a loooong time, so sorry if it felt a little rushed. I usually write without a plan and solely based off inspiration. I really wanted to fit an all-star weekend plot into this out of my own experience, but it wouldn't have made any sense. LOL. Let me know if you guys have any suggestions on what else to write or etc. Thanks to all the readers and I love you! Stay safe. :) 
> 
> Soundtrack - Rather be by H.E.R. & Show Me Love by Alicia Keys


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